Me and a Water Drop

A waterdrop clings to a pink petal,
its heavy weight pulls the flower
over on its side, as it waits.

Two hazel eyes stare
from above, to watch the water
drop from the petal to the ground,
to watch the flower bounce,
to see the streak of leftover water,
impatient eyes stare at the petal
memorize details, darker streaks,
pale, powder spots there,
the inside too close to see color,
just shadow, but a shine
of more water trapped inside,
then back to the edge the eyes snap
to wait for the fall, sure to be soon.

The waterdrop falls from the petal,
the flower bounces, another drop
is suddenly readied at the edge.

It wasn't the flower I watched,
but that droplet, shattered on concrete
that amazed me, shared with me its explosion.
And I laughed for an hour,
as I read every word
from three paragraphs
reflected in the up-splashing,
tiny, exploding drops.