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

with pride.