Flower

Whenever you spot your flower,

  you can?t let anything

  get in your way,

  you just

  can't

  let it

  go.



But what if your flower is

  poisonous?

  rare?

  ugly?

  wilted?

  useless to many?

Would you still love it?

  never let it go?

  never give up on it's

  fiery, passionate soul?

  always take care of it?

  defend it from stormy

  weather?



If your flower changed,

  even by a petal,

  would you still feel the same?

  would you still look at it with grace?

  will your heart still be set aflame?



What if your flower wanted to die?

What if all it did was cry?

What if you were the one

  making all of this happen?

What if your flower tried to get you to listen,

  so you could take care of it, but you didn't

  even look?

What would you do if your flower

  willfully died?

Would you be ashamed knowing that it's

  blood is in your name?

Would you be broken to pieces and

  pray to turn back time?

  Because, maybe just one more smile

  could have saved it.

  Or maybe just one more warm

  feeling from you?









What would you do if I was this flower

  crying out to you?

  begging for you to listen?

  begging for you to care?

Would you leave me to die again?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written june 16, 2004

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Buford Lurch's picture

This is an enjoyable piece that asks the reader strong questions. Nice job.