From bare earth does the flower grow, its ashes spread for winds to blow.
Returning to its place of birth, a stroke of beauty on this sullen dearth. Broken pieces lay strewn along the ground, a treasure for the seeker to be found. Can beauty blossom amidst such drought? Were tears enough to let it out? A simple drop of water from the eye, the lasting, long and sad goodbye. Memories that down the cheek do snake, slipping through the claspen hands that shake. In the canvas of the earth it pools, dying like the dreams of naive fools. And from this moisture wrought with pain, something new is born again. Where tattered love lay naked and bare, there comes again a flower there. By steady hand it says I do, from heart to heart, an 'I love you'. In times of sorrow it is shared, to comfort those who need a care. Cast to lay in mortal splay, this cyclical petal unending plays. Spoken. Unspoken. Loved. Unloved. Hello. Goodbye. For such a rare sight on such a rare occasion, a piece of land in floral corrasion. Whether by happiness or by sorrow, here today or gone tomorrow. Marvel at the barren earth where flowers grow. Their ashes spread for the winds to blow.
Copyright Roxx Hunter 2018.