by Sarah Oettinger

A flower, he did not want to grow at first
But I toiled, I worked hard for its life

A cold hard seedling, flourishing into gorgeous blossom
More beautiful than any, strong because of the love in it

I loved to see its beauty, to bathe in its splendor
Its magnificence invaded my heart and became part of me

I killed it, suddenly, harshly
My previous affection made the wound more potent

Why? I do not know
Scared of its brilliance, perhaps; fear is so powerful

But now without the loveliness
Without that grandeur in my life, my heart is an empty tomb

Could I grow it again? Would it allow me
To work for its life once more? Would it live?

Yes, it will live; Iím scared of it no longer
I will strive for its life; it will grow and become so much more lovely

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Poem Copyright © 2000 by Sarah Oettinger


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