Olivia H. Poet Narrative

The Wanderer, a Flower Bloomed

A flower bloomed amongst the desert floor
It look like it had been bitten
Bitten by a wild wolf that had lost itself.
Its petals were torn 
Its stem was bruised
Yet it held itself steadfast and strong
As the winds flew by, it held onto the floor
Beautifully it swayed with the patterns 
Though its colors were almost fading
It was alone 
A passerby came and saw the flower 
Plucked it right off the ground
He put it into a jar and kept it sealed shut
Doused it in drips of waters from his water can
He carried it as he went about walking through the desert
It kept him safe at night as its colors almost faded with its thirst and air 
It shined bright in the night as the passerby slept through the night
The flower could not sleep
The air was tight and there was barely any water 
Yet it stood its most upright 
Waiting for the sun the shine through
When the passerby awoke, the flower was weeping in its pain
The passerby poured water and unsealed the jar 
To find it awakening from all the abandonment
The passerby saw that it needed clear air and and abundance of water
So he walked to the nearest oasis 
He rooted the plant down near there 
And left to trek on his own
The flower had slowly begin to bloom with life
It had shared its seeds with the desert around it
The oasis had begun to be filled with flowers 
Now the passerby would visit every so often to come to the oasis 
And see the flower he had saved
He knew which one it is amongst the flowers 
It was the one that shown bright in the sunlight 
He named it evergreen because of its ability to live through the desert heat 
And retain its colors throughout its lifetime
Evergreen.
It was a place he called home.
The wanderer, the passerby.

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