new_beau:

Nice Lines...I'll ranslate it ...

americangirl:

The last flower of spring, a pale and delicate bloom is being pulled from the tree by the wind into a whirling motion, being tugged this way and that. Never free to choose it's own destination or way. Tugged unmercifully so many directions, losing sense of self, direction, and time. It is then abruplty dropped and forgotten-being left to wither and die-for it has been touched. The delicate bloom turns ugly brown-it has been handled more than it's strength. It dies spilling seeds on the ground that bury themselves in the cold hard ground. They grow inot a tree of untouched, clean, delicate blooms. The last flower of spring, a pale and delicate bloom is pulled from the tree by the wind into a whirling motion.

americangirl:

Thanks Tasha