A Fallen Petal

I followed the stone path past the damp moss, letting the cool dirt brush against my paws. Ahead, near the roots of a leafy bush, a pale pink blossom petal lay cupped like a tiny boat. I sat down and waited quietly, watching it rest. When a gentle breeze nudged the rim, the petal tipped over. I reached out a slow paw and caught it against the flat stone. The velvety petal felt cool and delicate beneath my pads, holding a faint, fresh sweetness from the garden.