The Wilted Flower

Once upon a time, In the middle of a September Along a long, winding path near the creek, I spotted the most beautiful thing. A flower that has yet to bloom, The potential of life radiated through and through. Excited was I to witness something so pure and true. Not wanting to miss its life unfold I visited the flower waiting for it to blossom, For it had so many stories left to be told. One winter morning did I check the flower, Only to find it wilted and departed. Sinking to my knees I wept for hours, With nothing to fill the quiet void except for bell chimes. Then out of the shade of trees, Emerged a nymph fair and green. Seeing my distressed state, She took my hands and smiled kindly. Drying my eyes as she held me close, The dryad whispered in my ear: “Do not worry, for it was a lily. It has already lived a fulfilling life Even if you did not bear witness. Come back in the spring and you shall see The gift that the lily left behind just for you and the bees." Months passed in a long agonizing wait. Finally the sun came out with sounds of children at play. I ran into the wood and found the long, winding path To that place near the creek And under the tree did I see, The most beautiful thing.