Easily Crushed

Fragile petals blown by turbulent winds
to swirl in eddies far from leaf and stem.
In rainbow colours, mixed they fly and
freedom gives them glory for a while.
Yet as with all things fleeting they must
fall at last to earth, to lay discarded
on the dry and dusty ground.
The sun beats down.
And colours start to fade.
Edges curl as heat draws out all moisture
leaving nothing left inside.
I reach with longing fingers needing
one more touch of life to make them feel.
Too late.
No spark remains.
As petals fall to dust within my hand,
so easily they crush, when separated
from the nourishment of home.