The Hidden Flower

A Musing on Life’s hidden Crevices

The Hidden Flower

By Ursula Kay Vos

12/8/2011

Berry Pods sit
Proudly atop

Unopened,

Naive

Young

Uncorrupted by the world,

This shrubbery watches.

On the side,

A lonely and wilted flower dies,

It has seen too much.

Too hard to face,

The hot sun of the day,

The freezing air of the night.

The daily reality,

Is this lonely flowers only plight.

I dare a look

At the dying flowers,

A tear escapes my grasp,

Begging my eyes to tear away,

A glimpse steals

My eyes final pass

Just beyond,

A metaphor!

Protected deep within,

Calling sweetly

To my soul within

It whispers

Softly this,

Survived, have I

The elements

Branches give me shade,

In the night embrace

Stave off the cold

And lonely nights

Go simply away.

I hear the call,

The grave does come,

But not for me,

It says.

I’m fragrant,

I’m alive!

To these flowers

I bow my head.

Bringing hope

In pink and yellow

Wrapped in a green embrace

The world dies around them,

As they remind,

Of God’s eternal Grace.

UKV

12/8/2011