She opens when she wants, closes when the spirit moves her
Swirling doors like petals swept aside by the grim grins of stardust particles
worrying her frayed velleities.
She opens once all the roses and lilies have closed for the dream hours,
When no butterfly can drink of her heavy nectar.
Overflowing in her bladder, it kills her not to give
But come the blinking hours, the lavender sky fading to melon rind to bluebell’s eye
When all the pretty flowers awaken and extend
Shaking hands with the sun and marrying the wind
pollen giggling along bees’ knees,
She cannot stay exposed. She’ll close, exhausted
by the silent black night
Needing sleep more than sunlight, her petals lock like doors
Inside, her color pulses, firefly bright, waiting to live
While everyone else is dead to her screams, she sings and drizzles
tiny sweet drops to drown the dewy grass.
By Pranav011 at English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41796006