The Flower and the Gardener (Poem)

I was an enclosed bud,

Concealed away from the rest of the yard,

Hidden due to the midst,

Of my endless neglect from gardeners.

But even the first sight of you,

Sparked my being,

Pollinated my existence,

And enriched my roots.

Meeting you was more organic,

than any soil known to mankind.

You unwrapped my pedals

Revealing the realest,

Most personal state of my vulnerability.

And I blossomed and bloomed,

Under your fertilizing charisma,

Until you tended other affairs,

So I learned to retain the water,

That you'd so scarcely feed me,

But my pedals are fragile and delicate,

And required by Mother Nature to be nourished,

So they inevitably withered away from my stem.

Leaving me a deceased flower

In the grave of the same soil that I sprouted from.

But as I descend from my livelihood,

Below the roots of my sheer existence,

I've learned that,

No matter how much the flower loves the gardener,

Or the gardener loves the flower,

If no time is spent with another,

The flower will die and no longer be a flower,

And the role of a gardener will die and no longer be a gardener,

The existence of the flower and the gardener,

Is dependent upon their relationship,

And their relationship is dependent upon proximity.

Without close proximity, their existence is essentially destined to perish.

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