Within the dark the slender stalk grows thin,
Hid from the tender light she cannot thrive,
And stifled by the walls, now caving in,
She longs to feel more than barely alive.
Her tissue-paper countenance so wan
Where once a strength engorged now pallid veins,
Laments shadowed existence since she sprang
To flowering thus cursed in ancient days.
A glimmering of light renews her sap
And quickens in her breast a rushing bloom,
Yet gathered in to kindly hearted lap,
Familiar ground now free, she fears her doom.
  Roots soaking comfort now, in warmth of sun;
  For keener eyes see more than weeds in some.

AGW 25th January 2017


Author: agw

Amateur poet and writer who aspires to write more...

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