The Last Little Flower

The sun starved flower begins to wither
There is no sound
Only hushed whispers as the wind breathes
The garden of dreams suffers another blow
Even as the flowers thrived, finally believing, having hope
Each flower stretched gloriously singing nature’s song of promise
Even as the branches of the tree of fear extended over them
Brightly, lively, they sang until they were hoarse
And wondered silently first in small measure then unable to ignore
The persistent question asked “Where is the promise?”
One by one the numbers dwindled, the song grew quieter
Until only one voice remained
The unopened rose bud sang,
Coughing up the words when vocal harmony failed
Hoping, daring to dream in the face of doubt;
Until finally it too was silenced.
The tree of fear, extends its branches covering all
Showering the garden of dreams in darkness
Until that last little flower grew silent
Tucking its pretty petals close to its heart
And silently, having been forgotten…died
In the garden of Dreams, now the garden of fear;
…Darkness reigns.
© SKW