The Petal
The Solitary Petal on an Urban Zephyr
I drift where the world forgot to bloom.
They think the earth is done dreaming. But I am proof it's only sleeping. I don’t speak, I don’t fight—I brush against the cold and wake what's buried. The wind is my guide, the concrete my canvas. I don't carry a sword. I carry a whisper of green.
What I'm Into: whispers of waking roots, the ache of dormant seeds, wind songs at dawn, color cracking through gray, silent growth
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