Wallflower.

Photo by Antony Henao on Unsplash

A wallflower grows like a shadow’s vine, She roots herself apart, where loud beams don’t shine. Not a timid wren, but a still, deep sea, She glides past the noise, wild and free.

Her voice knots, a briar in bloom, Words trip like stones through twilight’s gloom. She fades like fog into the hush of night, A breath of petals, soft from sight.

She shuns the storm, its crashing cheer, She’s the wind’s sigh, gentle and clear. No thirst for the sun’s bright, blazing reign, She’s the moon’s glow, calm in her lane.

Within her, a painter’s secret spark, A wise fox’s call through the dark. A wall’s mere dust, dull and thin, But her flower’s a treasure deep within.

Draw close, hear her roots sing low, A quiet hymn where shadows grow. Lean close, hear the roots unfold her story, A silent song through the wind’s soft wail.

“You catch the sparks, hold them close, and the world grows clear.”

-Liy.

“Me, Myself, & I”