The mother, so carefully
She planted her precious seed
A beauty of her own
With a life she wanted to lead

Slowly each day
The little girl grew
An old soul she was
And everyone knew

With each passing year
She flourished in the rain
She thrived in the sun
But the years brought pain

Her soft petals
Her sweet smell
Made her vulnerable
It was easy for them to tell

Easily neglected
Comfortably brought down
Her heart weakened
So she wilted and frowned

And turning to the rain
She hoped it would guide
She listened to it closely
But the rain also lied

Her mother watched
As her sweet flower grew cold
Her petals, they browned
And far too soon, she grew old