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Poem

I held in my hand a little seed.
It was so small and yet had so much potential.
I gently placed it in some soft fertile soil.
I covered it over and looked in awe.
Every day I tended to it,
watched for the first sign of life.
I was rewarded one day with a tentative, gentle glimmer.
Hapiness overwhelmed me.
I looked after it lovingly, and it grew strong.
Love and care and nourishment.
All my little flower needed.
It was so beautiful, graceful.
Everyone who looked upon it fell in love.
I plucked that flower and placed it in some neutral water.
At first it blossomed.
I knew I had done the right thing.
The petals glowed with life.
Then,
something went wrong.
The water grew stale.
My little flower started to wilt.
It bent over and the petals went dull.
One by one she shed her beautiful plumage.
What had I done?
I took my beautiful flower and held it in my hand.
No more was her shining glory.
I wept and held it tight.
I closed my hand protectively.
When I opened my hand, there it was.
Another little seed,
waiting to be reborn.

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