When my petals finally unfurled,
I thought I knew how it felt
to fully flourish,
and free from the weight
of confining expectations.
And I was glad,
that I did not let my leaves wilt this time,
and stayed true to my roots.

But I know from the past,
that seasons will eventually pass.
And just a drop of rain,
unsettles my serenity,
as I fear that my precious flowers
would once again be taken away.

What are joy and freedom, truly?
If flowers will only come,
and only go,
and nothing stays in perpetuity?
If in life’s garden,
seasons are ever-shifting,
what if the next time,
they leave permanently?

When the petals fall,
and the leaves wither away,
then what’s left of me?