The truth is that

I wilt like a petal when I am plucked by strong hands.

I dance like a shadow on the wall that only the cats stare at.

I fall gracefully like leaves and still end up with scraped knees.

Reviews

[Chris]

It's hell to be ...human. I liked the "realnesses" you make.

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Interesting write my friend – although quite ‘negative’ in content consequences. So, to cheer my review up, I post some notes! Did you know, 'Peter Sparkes' is a vigorous heather with long racemes of double, deep pink flowers from late summer to late autumn. That’s the twist in your first line! My take on your second line is; while cats not only take in much more information, they are instinctually attuned to pick up the slightest bits of information. They can see sunlight glinting off a mote of dust. They can hear nails creaking in the house when the wind presses, ever so slightly, against the outside walls.
We should be impressed. As for the last – well – I spend a lot of time on my knees in the garden, not praying, but toweling about the leaf covered borders... Now, look how inspirational your write has been – all this review from three lines – bravo! :-)