A Cold And Snowy Day In Winter, Where Flowers May Bloom

I had planted a seed into the Earth,

as she’d then given birth to a lovely flower.

It grew rather wildly and unkempt,

and yet had become something of immense power.

Though, as snow began to hail from the far off sky,

all of that power slowly began to wither and die.

And the flower would then be quite frail.

It was apparently much too late in season,

to have grown such a pleasant beauty.

I knew then that it was my sworn duty,

to find another way for her to live.

After all, she was my sole creation,

and her life was all that I had to give.

If only nature would listen to reason.

I forcefully lifted her from her roots,

and carried her far and wide across many lands.

I sheltered her, and I kept her warm.

I knew that if she had died I would be torn;

thrown into misery as a rather distraught man.

I had no plan, no ‘spur of the moment’ thought storm.

Though the snow itself seemed 

to be on the chase.

Fluttering white flakes glistened

in the wind,

I quickly began to lose eyesight

whilst reaching a quickened pace

as we sped down

the powder-covered hillside.

I could see something

far off in the wintry scene,

quite a distance away.

A tree, it appeared; still untouched

by the disastrous blizzard weather.

Grass grew around the tree,

and I knew that this may just be

exactly what she would need.

If only I could reach it in time.

And then maybe, just maybe,

she would be fine,

and have the ability to thrive,

even in this wintry setting.

I found myself moments later,

beneath the warmth of the tree.

Snow covered inches out of its reach,

and yet under the leaves sat only green.

I looked down at the flower,

and noticed her color turned sour.

She’d been wilting this entire time,

and I found that she hadn’t made it.

She’d died, and it was my fault.

I thought to try anyway,

and I planted her roots

in the warmth of the soil,

so that she would

no be longer frigid, though...

it seemed rather rigid that she

was bound to sleep for all of eternity,

while I sat by her side,

for the very last time.

I did no longer see her bloom,

only her wilting end.

I looked down towards her in awe,

and noticed another hole in the ground.

Perhaps another flower had rooted

and moved onto somewhere greater.

No, that was not the case.

As I took note and realized

The chase was nothing but a lie.

I’d found myself back at the same tree,

and then I began to cry.

It appears now, that on a cold

and snowy day in the midst of winter,

where flowers may possibly bloom,

they do not. All they do, is rot.

And I realized this too late,

as the lovely flower, my child,

wilted much too soon,

and so did my 

desire to smile.

Author's Note

I believe that this is the longest poem that I've ever written, as it is more of a story than anything; and it took the entire day to complete. Hopefully you folks enjoy it!

Reviews

[Emily]

Great poem!!
Keep it up!!

[Breanna Riddle]

This is the saddest poem I have read in a long time but it was also very enjoyable. The lose of something always hurts but the hurt makes you notice how much it meant to you.

[Ella]

It is a bit long but worth the read. It tells a sad story losing something isn't always easy and why should it be? The more it hurts the better it was

[Coyote Poetry]

A sad poem my friend.
"they do not. All they do, is rot.
And I realized this too late,
as the lovely flower, my child,
wilted much too soon,
and so did my
desire to smile."
When something we hold dear is loss. Can make us know sadness. Thank you my friend for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[.]

Brilliant stuff, Brian. A great example of a n extended story poem. I'm sitting at the base of that very tree today.
Simple, poetic and well defined. Great work.

[dan]

A classic tale of "The grass is always greener....." You uproot the flower to find it a more hardy environment in which to blossom, search far and wide only to find that the original home for the flower WAS the best for it. Another truism? "There's no place like home." Often this is found to be true, not the urge to roam. Very nice piece of writing, Brian. take care...dan

[wordman]

loss of something is always devastating,the flower being a metaphor of someone or something
and it is a good story.

[θεά]

The meter is much different from what you usually employ Rez, and it's more of a story-poem than one of your regular philosophical themes. If you'd like to dabble with such a genre of writing, do look at the story-poems by Roald Dahl and Louis Untermeyer, apart from Robert Frost.

You've beautiful narrated the dualism of wanting to keep something close to your self and the need to liberate the beloved rather well, without spelling it out at every step.

I congratulate you once again on a commendable effort, Rez. Keep writing.
Best.