By: Nyokabi Ng’ang’a


Photo Courtesy: www.wattpad.com

That BUDDING flower

That knows time

Time in a season

The season of every month,


That budding flower

That makes me an adult

An adult of days

With the days of frays;


Pain is elementary

When I bud as a flower

My emotions rage

My moods change;


I am a budding flower

Who cannot be understood by all

Aside from the ones who fall

For the budding season of our flowers;


I am a budding flower,

Within the process I feel pain

Out of the process I feel sane;


I am a budding flower…who cannot be understood by all.



The online involvement editor manages this author. The articles posted are associated with the various writers and editors for the involvement Newspaper.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *