Part 2 : Flowers that Stay

It's the last one, the last flower. In this mess of burnt land I find it. Blinded by tears still, however. I sit down, though with on my arms, legs, hair, dress, wings, all around me, I smile. Around me, destruction from an uncaused fire. In front of me, I hold in my hand, the last living nature. I treasure this, as it is very special. It is the last of my home. The last of what I knew well.The survivor of this uncaused fire that burned down every living thing that was unable to escape the pain it brought to the touch of it. This flower has made me happy, even though the tragic cry of the burned and separated people from the flames. I wish to see more life left but there is none. I do not get get it, if one survives the flames, why not more? Why not others? Why was this one little flower the last left? Or was it merely starting to grow as the fire began?

Strange as it is, it is hopeful. It is life. It is color in this darkness the bright flames of the fire brought and left behind. It is mine. I cannot lose it. No, I must't lose what has already been lost. What was longing to be found.I just couldn't bear the fact if I ever did. I just can't let go of this.