Today I walked into my neighbour’s garden
It was 20 degrees centigrade, a beautiful summer day
With clear skies and a cool breeze
On a moist land, but not spongy
Flowers blossoming in different colours with different styles
While I stood on a path listening to nature
My eyes are caught by an Opuntia flower
A yellow and red rose that smells so sweet but has thorns
Staring at it from a far, it is flourescent
With an enticing scent
It’s not ‘beautiful’ as modern society desires
But different, even to nature which it has grown from
I approached it, wanted to steal it from its land
But the thorns couldn’t let go of their pride
My bare hands were pricked from every angle
I am not a people person, I know
I am a deserted land with drought and that still, I know
That’s where Opuntia flowers grow their strength, she should know.