Azalea Poem by Robin Bennett

Maybe I was as weak as the
azaleas giving way to the wind-
Each gale whipped at my
sanity and eased my fading grip
on reality. Dancing delicate like
the blooms, I tumbled into a lost oblivion.

Blowing aimlessly and
brushing cement,
I lost all luster-
Fading into a pile of like outcasts,
our same fate joins us together.
Layers begin to wither and peel back,
exposing a raw center;
Only a part of me is still alive,
waiting in agony for insect's pollination,
I appear the same at first glance,
yet battered and torn under autopsy.