Being Schooled

Lately these mornings as he runs
by, a flower cries.

They won’t let him
stop, he’s buckled into blacktop

rules. On the way to school
he mourns what is uncrushed

the perfect blossom lonely
in the morning rush.

Tomorrow he can come and
linger here, gather dew copious

like tears on his finger
near these blooms he knows

so well. I’ll give him room
a spell, re-membering, hearing

petals fall in ecstasy
being squeezed by one

so small. The exquisite pain
of love so grand

staining skin
absorbed in this tiny hand.

Inspired by: School, Copious, Crush and the phrase “A flower cried.”

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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