Water hesitates to come in
fears the merciless sun will
soon turn her into vapour.
Breeze too busy to pause
spend some time here whirling
the island has little news to share.
Pain filled the pink bright flower
the lonely blossom on the lonely island.
Shrubs invited no birds or bees
Thorns kept off the singing cicadas.
Butterflies painted themselves in other skies
The pink flower left unknown.
The lonely island longed for a footfall,
flapping of wings and scurry of paws.
Ripples touched the shores gently
moved back unsure, quickly.
Moonlight caressed the water bright
rocked it back and forth to sleep tight.
The lonely island cold, slept blanketed
in its own shadow dark, like a heart-
unwilling to trust, unable to feel.
Thunder clapped, lightning drew bright lines
across the sky that could no longer withhold
the agony of witnessing every day,
the loneliness of the flower, the pink flower.
Water gushed along,
pouring rain incessant resolute.
floating the pink petals to distant shores
a poem etched on each petal, deep;
in the language of the lonely mind
of the wild flower, the pink flower
waves read them again with pleasure
water drops wrapped themselves in the verses