• My garden's tulip,
    Alone in its faithful
    solitude,
    Rises for
    the sun.

    No need to compete
    For its water or
    blissful sunshine,
    It grows and
    prospers.

    Rain clouds
    begin
    to build,
    and the air
    gets heavy.
    Mother Earth
    is looking after
    the small
    bud.

    Rain-kissed leaves
    greet me
    At sunrise
    the next morning,
    smiling and
    shimmering

    I walk across
    the growing garden,
    searching,
    looking,
    for that
    beautiful tulip.

    Footprints
    decorate the
    packed, muddy
    earth.

    My flower is not there.
    The only thing
    to remember it by
    is a squashed,
    mangled,
    muddy
    petal.

    Someone has trampled
    my fresh new bud.
    Who could it be?
    I'll kill them for sure.