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Dear Peony

I want to be you luscious peony.

Your blossom full and bursting profusely with petals.

Each one irregular, imperfect and ruffling out in all directions.

Like you don’t give a thought to what anyone thinks of you.

You just want to bloom to flirt with life.

To radiate your intoxicating scent,

even if only to make yourself swoon.

To unfold, open and revel in the sun by day

and contemplatively curl up to your own soft beauty by night.

You don’t hesitate to dance to the beckoning wind’s song.

To sing with naked and wild abandon, loud and clear.

To giggle alongside other playful souls, carefree and authentic.

For you know you do not bloom in fullness for very long.

You risk being vulnerable, raw and real nonetheless.

You show your vibrant colors with gusto

and enthusiasm for all to see.

You are so alive, so present, so outrageous

that the weight of your soul bows you to your life.

This being brought to the earth by your fullness

doesn’t diminish you,

instead, you embrace this passage with grace

for the chance to be tender, exuberant

and completely undone.

I am humbled by you.

With each glance and each inhale

you fill me with awe and reverence

for your willingness to open yourself to the world with love.

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