Mr Sagittarius, Man of Fire, among the trees,
Sat down and fashioned arrows out of wood and flint with ease.
Then passing, Lady Libra, who despite her grace and airs,
Was captured by the flame in him, so hid, and watched him there.
Delicate flower, you have been growing alone for too long.
The soil round your feet was frozen by winter,
Your petals were brittle, their colour near gone.
Back arching like a tree branch,
Take me and break me
As if snapping twigs with your hands.
Brittle by name,
But nature changed her.
Nurture turned her,
Conversely, to stone.
Someone lit a fire,
Knowing someone like me would
Find it, feel it… why?