In a world where lit and lightened, is what one sees,
a sun warmed flower, is the one always swarmed,
cherished and adored, by fluttering birds and bees,
but there lies a young sapling in dark, un-warmed,
what shall happen of the leaves, that didn't bask?
how does that sapling even lives? you might ask,
it grows wide n' tall, in its dark shadowy nest,
since the sun indeed, never rises, ever warms the west,
for it's not a bloom, bowing before sun to be seen,
its fragrance is potent, to fill even the darkest scene.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 5:15 AM UTC
In a world where lit and lightened, is what one sees,
a sun warmed flower, is the one always swarmed,
cherished and adored, by fluttering birds and bees,
but there lies a young sapling in dark, un-warmed,
what shall happen of the leaves, that didn't bask?
how does that sapling even lives? you might ask,
it grows wide n' tall, in its dark shadowy nest,
since the sun indeed, never rises, ever warms the west,
for it's not a bloom, bowing before sun to be seen,
its fragrance is potent, to fill even the darkest scene.
