silk flowers iv

From silk to roses
I stood in awe of her,
turning only to face the moon;
whom I had once called alien.
Another grain of sand -
another
comforting
grain.

The worm inched
towards her bloom,
sensing the
most subtle tremble -
as if in anticipation?
No,
the worm knows;
the worm feels;
the worm lives.

As he makes his way
along her stem
he notices a single
vibrantly white
petal
fall away
and get swept up
by the wind.

The worm stops and thinks
to himself,
thoughts of freedom -
rerooting.
Perhaps she is going
to visit the
stars
where she belongs?

The worm has never felt
so warm;
even in the driving rain
she shelters him
within her
lovely leaves.

Then, the worm knew
just how wonderful it feels
to hold a star, and not get burnt.

Watching the worm,
I feel a sense of
completion.
The china doll on my
shelf seems more lovely
every day - smiling just as much
as the silk flower she holds.
Another
comforting
grain.