Poem: Touching the Pillow Petals

Dancer walks to take it slow,
Touching the pillow petals,
Brushing the finger tips.
The wind whispers by,
Quietly greets and departs,
To go on its swift way.
As it leaves, it grants a gift,
Of scent playing with your nose.
The smell changes pattern and presence,
With the origin of the breeze.
Avian chatter leaps by the ear,
Too quick to decipher,
But slow enough to notice.
Twirl, sweet dancer of life.
Gather the experiences around you,
Before you return to the path away.