120 of 14,600

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You can't see the pink flowers
At this time of the night
But they were there
In plain view and out of sight.
They'll stay on that branch
Until it's time to go
Till then there's wind, a moon
And taking it slow
These flowers bloom under
A singer's bright green home
She plays the guitar in company
And sometimes alone
There are other pink flowers
Growing on different trees
Not all of them know, though,
How to go flirting with the breeze.
They'll die and maybe grow again elsewhere
But let's be frank
An unlined beginning is the dream
But the canvas is seldom blank.
#poem

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