u/Legitimate-Studio454

The wind is rustling,

leaves are falling,

and here I sit like a stone,

while water moves around me,

left, right, and forward.

I am waiting to be picked up,

like a child chooses a stone,

paints it, writes on it,

carves it,

and suddenly it has a new face.

Maybe that is what a new job feels like.

Not a new soul,

just new eyes

finally seeing me.

I am surrounded by petals,

so yes, maybe I am lucky.

But some days, I still feel like burning paper,

waiting for water to touch me,

waiting for a poet to write on me,

waiting for proof that I was never empty.

Even paper gets a new life

when someone sees its worth.

And I guess that is all I want too,

to prove my worth

to the petals around me.