Samantha Bath
Browned, tangled petals,
Interlocked, as if afraid of letting go,
Lifted through the air
And spun around in circles as it goes.
The once fragrant flowers
Now left to their own devices,
Like a woman discarded by a lover,
Lost in the never-ending twirling of emotions.
A bouquet of hydrangea tumbleweeds,
Dancing together in the breeze,
Dead and gone, but still in motion,
Left to this last performance till fading away.
A girl watches from the side of the street
And wonders if one day she will be
A hydrangea tumbleweed,
Among those who aren’t heard, but seen
Wild and free from all her responsibilities.
Broken maybe-but safe from all enemies.