There was once a small, dying flower Her beauty was dim Thoughts trapped her from deep below The roots that held her down made it hard to grow
She lived a life of solitude No other flowers blossomed beside her Her sweet aroma nobody smelt In the lonely landscape in which she dwelt
But then there came a day when something happened The piercing blue sky changed into oyster silver And as the flower proceeded to slowly die in pain The miracle came. Rain.
The rain fell from the sky like liquid jewels Each drop nourished the flower Although the rain didn’t realize at first It had helped the flower overcome the worst
Through the air the rain and flower shared silent whispers The rain understood the flower’s dying condition The flower was relieved that someone else knew Of the deep trauma that everyday grew
For many weeks the rain showered on To help the flower continue to be strong But the rain didn’t know of the flower’s underground roots The rain wanted to know but the flower kept them as emotional loots
One day another accompanied the rain A being called sunshine, a beaming white light Though slight droppings of rain spluttered down from the sky The flower was inevitably starting to die
The flower didn’t want the rain to know How dependent she was of her nurturing The flower stood while its immunity could run As the rain started to fade into the sun
The flower should be glad that the rain started to calm For the rain carried pain and distress from far above So the flower carried the trauma and rejection Into the roots where she was bullied by her reflection
The sun was kindhearted, pure and bright It shone optimism and grace to all in its range It was actually a key to the flower’s survival But neglect and jealously made her the rival
The flower started to push the rain away She didn’t want to hold the rain back from serenity So the rain dripped off the darkening petals As the flower wishes, the rain cools and settles
The rain disappeared in the light of the sun Creating a spectrum of colours bleeding across the sky The flower sighed in relief of the petrichor As the flower died, and became no more.
I know the theme is cliche and kind of childish, don't judge. But I actually wrote this when I was nine and have just gone through and edited some stuff. So I hope its ok :)