The FlowerWritten for the July Year 3 topic of "Ageing or Marriage"

Walking down the Victorian street the street lamps jostle for position
in the eye line causing the head to wheel in order to re-focus.

A gambler could be about to take the biggest risk of his life but won’t know
the answer until many, many years down the journey.

A damp clammy layer of moisture sweats on his brow.

A bud bound so tight and tense shaking with rage on the edge of explosion.
That was day one.
This drew forth a beautiful flower one day that rose towards the sun.
This continued on.
But the flower grew too fast and though the head blossomed strong,
it couldn’t carry on.
Buds that began all along the stem began to spring out and unleash more vines,
that grew out and long.
And longer and longer, this way and that, some twisted and curled,
Back to one.
And longer and longer, this way and that, others went their separate ways,
until they were gone.
The head reached for the stars pulling constantly from the mire below,
out of the throng.

Eyes pricked – heart caught – mind glazed – mind sharp – people thought of – times thought of – memories roll – tears roll – tears drop – tears drop – tears drop…

© Sam Cunningham, July 2009