| 3.28.2007 |
| Poem .10 |
The lonely flower stands staring at the sun,
Leaves like palms outstretched, praying for rain.
Waiting for the life-giving water to pour down and quench its soul.
Its roots hold tightly to the ground below
Believing that this, beyond anywhere else, will give it the best chance at life, Hoping that the soil here will not be stingy with precious nutrients.
The bee flies bravely from its hive,
Searching for food to bring back to its family.
As it hovers over the field of grass, one lonely flower catches its eye.
It lands on one of the delicate petals of the flower,
Which breaks on impact, sending the bee crashing towards the earth.
Broken wings and shattered dreams are all that remain of the bee.
The flower weeps at the bee's demise,
Bowing its head toward the tiny insect.
With no hope for rain, it crumbles in a heap of leaves and petals.
Its stem empty of water and hope, the flower dies next to the bee.
The sun forsakes the two fallen creatures, and retreats behind the clouds,
Which mourn the deaths by raining down grief, belated. |
posted by Little Red @ 4:39 PM  |
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