She stands just beyond my reach,
unfolding slow, like she knows I’m watching.
Petals pale against the dark,
her scent thickens the air,
sweet, heavy, made to be breathed in deep.
I want her in my hands, in my grip,
but she stays just where she is,
untouched, untouchable,
waiting for nothing.
The wind moves her, but never takes her.
She teases me with the way she sways,
the way she lingers, knowing, deliberate.
I step closer,
drawn in like a man starved,
like a man who’s taken before,
but not this time.
She doesn’t bend, doesn’t yield.
I could beg,
but she would only watch,
cool, perfect,
slipping through my fingers
before I could even touch her.
Some things were made to be wanted,
but never taken.
Magnolias don’t belong to anyone.
She doesn’t belong to anyone,
just a perfection
demanding silence in her presence.
hello Fred I love your reverence for her great write 💕
Thank you Crimsin, appreciate you…
Amazing write, Fred. Nicely done my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you Damian….