The Perennial Flower — A poem
There is a flower, 9 years old.
Its roots are deeply woven through the dark, rich soil that nourishes and supports them as they grow. There is a lively world in that earth that is filled with many colorful creatures that are not bothered to never see the light of day. For there they are sheltered from the crow, deep in the warm bosom of contentment and peace. It is in the depths of this velvety earth that the roots push and reach at a constant pace for something they do not understand. There is no trophy, no metal, no end. And yet they strive at every moment as if it were their final steps to the finish line. This is a healthy flower.
A nine year old flower will not be the first to be picked by a child. It is not the first to stop a passerby in their tracks to marvel at her beauty. But to the gardener, the experienced, it is a marvel. The gardener, equal lover of its seen and unseen beauty, will stare and wonder. How this perennial does thrive! If it were to be turned upside down one would see that what is underneath far surpasses the beauty that the sun does shine it’s face upon! It is the gardener’s favorite flower.
(A poem written for my Valentine).
