The Flower

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Once when I was young I chanced upon a flower

Wild and free it was the most beautiful thing I had seen

And I wanted it for my own


To care for this flower

To show it off to the world

This beautiful flower that was my own


Through spring and summer

I  watered, I watched and I helped it to grow

And the flower basked me in its glory as it did so


But I had to leave

It hurt me to do it, worse than tearing out my own heart

But in order to save the flower

I had to leave


Alas I came back

Swearing to never leave again

I came to the flower and I watered and watered

And tried to understand why it wouldn’t grow


One day as I went to my flower

I found that I had drowned it with my attempts at love

And I threw my self into a fury of work to try to save the flower

But alas my attempts were in vain, my ego had taken its toll


But the flower came back

And I was careful this time

I was sparing in my attentions, trying to let it grow on its own

And things were better for a time

But as fall came again it started to fade


But the flower came back

And I would walk by every now and then

To see that it was growing

Watering and moving its pot every now and then

But mostly just siting by reading or working

Just to have some glimpse, some touch of the flowers radiance in my day


But fall came again.

Then winter.

This time worse than the last

Because I couldn’t see where I went wrong

Why wouldn’t my flower stay?


The winter was long, and hard for me

I yearned for my flower again

Not for its beauty or the way I felt when I cared for it

But for its mere presence in my life

Those days spent by its side

Reading, working, talking


But the flower never came back to me


In my pain I tried to grow other flowers

But none held my attention

And all refused to grow in my care

Fleeting moments of a piss pore version of the joy I once had


In the end I left that place

I tried to leave the memory behind me and forget the flower

But I could not leave the memories behind

I could not drown nor flee that which pained me

So I came back to the flower


And I was surprised

The flower had a new caretaker now

One who knew how to help the flower grow

In ways I never could


And I was surprised

Because the flower was no longer a flower

But a full kiwi vine


And I am surprised

And I am hurt

I could not, can not see

Why would the kiwi hide its nature from me?

Why did it leave and never come back to me?




The One Who Got Away ►


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Tue 7th Apr 2020 00:34

Lovely metaphor. 🖤🦋

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