Like Wildflowers Do

Bury me alive, with bent  
and broken stems.
Where the warmest of days  
pours out,  on love,  
gone cold  
fallen, fatigued love is  
Etched out by a forced  
impression
 
Turn me over, under like
 tilled soil.So, it may grow again.
Make it white as Dahlia held  
with the elements of humility  
and truth  
 
I long  for the  most tender love.
Where fingertips touch lightly  
Within the stillness of a breath  
Our secrets are kept  
a love born of  neonate dreams  
A love that grows,    
like wildflowers do. .