Picking Up Ashes
Picking up ashes of a flower.
Picking up ashes, that you left behind.
If the next time you come knocking to find my ashes scattered.
You'll have known what your flower really meant on that Orange sunrise.
But I sit and wait for something Uplifting to come along
If only to dash my hopes into a dust pan and
Once again have me form.
If only to burn again.
Even with the pain of standing I keep my form
As the ashes balance on top of one another.
I take steps in my fragile state.
As if I'm a jig saw puzzle solving itself
but the pieces dont quiet fit, how it first seemed.