On the Brink

Just before the bud blossomed into the rose 
that it was meant to be
Just before the butterfly stretches its shrivelled wings
awakening from its chrysalis
Just before the sun looks upon the weeping sky 
casting colours on her tear-streaked face
Just before the cool morning air
bejewels the seemingly insignificant grass 
Time stopped
and everything stood just as they were
On the brink