air

her skirt opens as petals sunbathing on fresh cut grass threads, waiting to be picked and sewn into a coarse brown fabric. with every second, she feels the pinkness in her cheeks sucked into the round smiling cherubs that float around her. she can no longer deny what the catbirds sang and feels a heated anger as even the sun dances awaiting the union. in the clouds of such joy, she begins to wonder if falling into his branches could lighten her flight. that was her mistake. everything was minimized as a rock, a strategic step for her to reach the peak, without any appreciation for the bouquet. if she could only realize this, she would never have to reach for anything. it would instantly be experienced as the blowing wind that gently opened her skirt.