Flutter

My locution -
ghosts of a garden
where I was born
with amiss beauty,
but still pronounced
from open windows.

now shades are
being drawn...
only sunlight tries
to enter my thorns
with its shadow.

my lips -
yawning a primrose
like silence has been
sown into my petals,
and help is a galaxy

lost.

my insignificance -
to sand will I return,
where I am warm and
there is no definite traces
that can be brought

back.

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written 2/17/13 at 8:45 pm