the flower petal is velvety, smooth between fingers
careless people have plucked it,
scars never healed,
removal permanent.

the moon is the nocturnal sun.
it glows over all flowers,
ones rising toward the sky,
standing on stage.
ones rooted on the ground
afraid, uncertain, immobilized

the remaining petals bask in the light.
they wilt,
already battered,

the moon is always watching.