It's been so long.
My vase has been empty
for fear of selfish gardening.
I had almost given up completely.
My favourite flower was always an orchid.
I thought I had found it long ago,
but it seems my orchid is a rarer breed;
it takes much more care to sow.
I happened across it on a lively night
in a garden full of flowers.
My lily had just turned to poison;
it's amazing what lust devours.
My orchid had seen many vases,
some much nicer than mine
and yet it chose to flower then
and look entrancingly divine.
For a couple years I watered it
from far away, safe from my touch of war
I was afraid that I would squander it,
like I had so many times before.
But the orchid was just like me,
adventurous and curious.
Though we couldn't be together
we let each other be flirtatious.
And silently we grew together,
and my orchid came to me,
and my whole world came together
even if only very briefly.
Now I sit here writing this,
looking at my orchid, in my vase, on my window sill,
and I look back at myself and realize;
I'm HIS flower, in HIS vase, on HIS window sill.