Effortless elegance

Without me perceiving

or scrawling a line or two

about it

It will still continue to exist.

Perhaps better that way,

by itself,

not forced to conform

to the shape and rhyming

of my verses

or worse, my whims.

It keeps swooning

in abandon peerless

Unmindful of me watching

although I imagine it blushing

The flower couldn't care less

about being a flower.

Petals, fragrance, colours vivid

all blossoming in place

Complete without trying.

Elegance effortless.

Whilst I strive and sweat

to be a poet

When I could be best

without trying or haste.

There is no substitute.

Not many can fill her shoes.

Abandon takes her strolls

unchartered,

unannounced,

barefeet.