Under a pit of shade I sit. Gazing at the last tidbit of sunlight in my wake, absorbing all that I can, and awaiting the day I bloom into Spring. Once so limp under the weight of Winter, I finally find myself standing taller than before. I listen to the ode that the birds sing into these bright, new days. I wish for more in this life. A new face, a new eye, a new sight. I look into a new day and wait for life to come my way. I am here. Does anyone see me past my sprouting leaves? I am here.
A gray emerges from the blue tinge of the globe I gaze into. Clouds above my low head. I am not sprouting today. I am bathing in gray in my own solitude. Counting the days on the shards of grass that surrounds me. I will bloom. I will bloom. When I do, someone will pluck me into their hands. The warmth of their hand will wilt away my stem, but it will be a new sight, a new feeling that I have never experienced before. For someone to choose me. I will be a fragrance in their nose, a slice of color in their view. When will it come?
A spiderweb grows idle beside me against a tree that stands high without movement from any incoming wind. The web grows day by day, nearing my newly sprouting petals. On this bright day, a gray manages to surface in my sight. The sight of this web is new, but its presence is damaging my appeal to an audience that seeks beauty in trivial forms. I long for grandeur. I long to be desired.
A brown spider trickles from the web with a cloak of flies. I pray for a spring rain to wash away its webs that itch towards my direction. When will it come?
Orbit around Spring. I come into my wings. I have bloomed. My petals are blue and triangular. I am a cornflower that glows in the mist of midnight. I reflect the color in those who pass. Aimless. Yet no one has shown me mercy. I sit through Spring in my solitude, bright and blue. All the eyes look past me and into the air, rather than into me. A blue that covers their own face. All I see are their eyes looking past one another, all alone under a color that is blue; just like me.
Everyone walks by one another, aimless, so lonely this world must be. I come about in Spring when all the flowers bloom yet the people are in their own solitude. A lonely life we all share under the weight of blue. Birds drop down into the sphere of Spring. I sit alone still, as everyone else does.
In a moment’s time, a gust of wind blows into my weight of blue, and I am visited by an angel. An angel descending into my world of blue. They cast the same color as I do — a bright blue of their rippled petals, folding into one another so as to cover their face. As they float downwards in my wake, they move so slightly captured by the light wind. They land beside me and my fallen petal of blue, I see something that is new. The blue of those faces, beneath their eyes, now sits before me. I now see the allure. The tinge of a soft blue with light ripples on their face looks right through me. How I have never been seen until this moment. An angel in my view with wings of white on each side of their face, reflecting this shade of blue back into me. Someone breathed life into them and left them to decay.
Their wings must have been attacked, they are hollow, just a frame of white string remains — this is how they descended into my realm of grass and soil. A friend of mine who has been hurt. I comfort them and offer them my blue petals to cover their wounds. They are silent. Perhaps the shock of their fall has caused them distress. I look into them, into their blank face of blue. I think of the petals that surround my head. The leaves that line my stem. I am no longer lonely. I look into this new face and see a friend.
I reach toward this angel and wish to feel their coat of blue. They do not flinch, they remain stagnant against the light breeze. It is dry, and I can feel what was once breathed into them that no longer remains. I kiss the past life in you goodbye, and wish you serenity in its place. I give you my own blue. I give all of myself to you. A fallen angel in my view. Take my color for your own and my leaves that may serve as wings. I do not need blue any longer as I have seen more in you and your folds than I ever will in this Spring. I look into you and see something greater than Spring, beyond the sun’s light and beyond the allure of the people who walk past one another.
I reach toward you one last time in the long gush of wind, and as my petals are torn away from my face, you float away. Ascending back to heaven. Goodbye to the mask of blue that gave me life for a brief moment, making my eternity feel full. The life that breathed into you left you here instead of disposing of you outside of Earth’s view, leaving me blue and decaying.
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