Your own Bouquet

Written by: Helen Forber

How did I ever get here?
I don’t recognise this place.
The last thing I remember,
Life was their to take.

Prospects in the thousands,
Blossoming like the buds,
They only grew more plentiful,
I only had to pluck.

Some I left to wither,
Dying on their stem.
Knowing that come spring,
They would bloom and sprout again.

I had all the time to choose them,
To see which suite me best.
But as the years drew nearer,
Not one of them was left.

I looked at all the people,
Who merrily passed me by,
They all had all their flowers,
With companions at their side.

I began to implore the others,
For a petal or a leaf.
Anything they’d bestow me.
Anything I could keep.

Their response was only laughter,
All I gauged was hate.
Not one of them would aid me,
All left me to my fate.

If only I’d aimed higher,
And nurtured all my goals.
I’ve been my own undoing,
I’m to blame alone.

While drowning in self pity,
Awaiting my demise.
The wind had changed direction,
A seed lay by my side.

I reached for the tiny blessing,
And caressed it in my hands,
Then knelt in soft plush soil,
To burry it on my lands.

Never will I neglect it,
I’ll help to make it grow.
I didn’t understand till then,
You reap just what you sow.