October 17, 2020 Pieces of me slowly falling away. Petals sprinkling the ground. Each one, a lesson I learned to be proud of. Some petals, limiting fears I escaped the icy grip of. Other petals, lingering doubts I chose to be free of. The old petals of me soon will wilt and fade. Settle into the ground and melt with the mud. Disappear just long enough to nourish the ground. So that next season I can blossom from what was once my ruin.