Pretty petals

Pretty Flowers,
How many times have i seen her before?
Passing me by on the sidewalk. Sitting across from me at the local family diner. Checking out movies at the general store..
If i had to put a number to it I'm sure it would be greater than the amount i would like to count to.
A countless number of times coming across the image of a pretty somebody.
The kind of Beauty that has a radiance to it that will stain the eyes and blind the mind.
Even after i pull away, the image of her face sticks in my mind like a thorny stick in a pile of mud.
But roses don't grow in mud,
and i know that if love is a rose
then its color would never in a million years show true in anything but the light of the sun..
A material of such grander design than i could possibly manage at the best of times... with my mind of mud.
Leave me dried out man...
"Dont let the pretty petals set in", says me
They wont reflect the life of the living Soul

"Pretty Petals"_A prose piece