Flowers

Coiled up, sleeping through winter

Like a bear in hibernation

Wilted leaves and leaning stem,

They ache to be alive once

More.

Desperately, they reach for the waning sun

In search of the warmth that they

Longed for.

During the seasons in which they were

Forced to fold into themselves

They feel their spirit

Wavering.

Onset is the feeling of helplessness,

The idea that their purpose

Is nothing more than

Decaying debris.

And slowly, they cease to exist.

They, the flowers, like any other creature

In the winter,

Stuck bundling up, hiding within themselves,

And wilting

They die inside

To be reborn again

Once the spring comes.