The branches bow to ground
as raindrops weigh it down, and they
sway slowly as mists rise.
Drawn to the beauty, perfect red
sculpted blades, I lift it close
unto my inadvertent touch.
I kiss the flower after the rain
and softly the petals stain my lips
with evening's scents, and floating
-a moment adrift as if in a dream.
As the warm wind lifts
the traces of flower touch;
it leaves my whispers in an inward stare
among the slow beat of verging drips.
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