THE LITTLE FLOWER
by Tania Miclău
”This is our season”,
The field of flowers declared to the wind,
Brimming with flourishing bouquets,
Flaunting every colour of the rainbow,
With divine spilling over the terrain.
The sky revealed its sapphire kingdom,
When birds and bees bustling to reap the riches,
Trees relished the cool breeze blowing through their leaves,
And proudly exhibite the fruits that hung from every branch.
A tiny lavender flower blossoming in the midle of the acreage,
Stood isolated, flaunting a splendour no other can compare,
The narrow stem poised upright, with her bulb flowering,
Revealing an ocean of colours interweaved into four identical petals.
”She may have been small”,
But her love and beautitude extended her beyond the field,
With those around her basking in the warmth of her radiating beauty,
And admiration for the tenderness she bestowed upon others.
There was a time however, when alone she did stand,
With only her heart confronting the demons of loneliness and melancholy,
Perpetually seeking answers to why the spirit to live has forsaken her,
Alone she bared the guilt of failure,
Burying deep her vulnerability.
An empty heart is very hollow,
And the lifeless beating of your heart,
Will grant you no kinship or tranquility,
To extinguish those fires of condemnation.
Then was a cold winter night,
When the sky bared its enigmatic darkness.
Thunder and lightning descended upon the field,
With the wrath of its tempest released.
Rains saturated the land,
As our Elysian fields werw engulfed by darkness.
Being so smal and fragile,
The lavender flower which once stood
So tall and ful of life,
Now lay slumped, buried în a puddle of rainwater.
As the rays of life brought a new day,
Filled with enchantment and vivacity,
The flowers and trees bowed to the centre of the field,
With their tears of farewell flowing into the veins of the earth,
For the sacrifice that was made,
To show us the path to contentment and iner peace.
De la Biblioteca ”Mihai Eminescu”