The Lily


She remains, but retreats.
Severe frost has ravaged her flower.
The harsh winds of winter are at hand;
and so, she returns to her core.
She hibernates in huddled earth
as winter's stark beauty howls above.
And here she lies;
safe for the moment,
not even curious,
for she must survive.
It is here where she remains…

An eternity of nights pass by
and winds above begin to warm
and blow more gently.
The frost crust thaws its protection
and the melt seeps
to caress her, to awaken her.
It is her lifeblood, her hope.
And she begins to stir; finally, curious.
She arises wary
but wiser to the seasons.
And the lily takes her place
amongst the fields.
Where she remains.

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