To Bloom

In the darkness, in the night,
A flower of feeble might.
Stands alone upon a twig,
Beneath the moon pearly bright.

Yearning for a few drops of rain,
To find a flower to stand beside,
And stand beside, together
Extinguishing both their pain.

In the drier days and lonesome nights,
when the flower was about to die,
A smaller shoot, feebler still,
Showed up upon the lonesome twig.

It sprouts up, beside the flower glum,
And begins to bud shortly then,
Intertwining under the scorching sun,
Extraordinarily ‘cuter’, and the music begun.

It bought the flower back to life,
A life, in all the withering seasons,
A life which was about to die,
And would have dried up and forgotten,
Forgotten in the times nigh’.

Both brought the other back from doom,
And henceforth expelled all the gloom,
As a new life came upon that tree
With the flowers’s stupendous bloom.

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