One Minute Flowers

I was painting flowers today

or flowers were painting me.

I tried to stop it, tried to depict something else

something more of value,

but what can I do if my fingers yearn for petting petals

unearthing the frailty, extruding the ashen out of my pores.

My fingertips danced budding forth creation

till my dimples blossomed,

I could sense life’s fragrant fuel

and the sun was humming a golden hue.