People often say to just wait for the spring, when the flowers bloom most prosperous and plenty. Flaunting their beauty for all to witness. With more hues than the eye can see.
I say show me the flowers that bloom in the dead of winter, whose roots are so deep, not even the frost can keep them from thriving. The deep violet and emerald colors peaking through snow.
Show me the flowers that they call weeds, the ones that are hearty and brave. That bloom in the broken cracks of our foundations. Like the yellow dandelions I picked as a child.
Show me the flowers that stretch towards the suns scorching heat instead of wilting away. Swaying towards it like a long lost friend like the field of sunflowers I used to drive past.
Show me the flowers that burst into a riot of color during autumn, when passion flares and not even the changing of the seasons can stifle it.
Give me all the seasons, scents, and flavors of flowers there are. Let me walk in their gardens of one and of many. Always listening, learning and growing from the experience. For just a moment or for a lifetime.
About the Creator
The Burnout Train
This poem was written in response to the Rattle® Poetry Ekphrastic Challenge for April 2024 and was ultimately not selected. You can find more information here. https://www.rattle.com/ekphrastic/ The image that this poem was specifically written about can be found here. (April 2024 – Gerrie Paino's “Night Train”) https://i0.wp.com/www.rattle.com/ekphrasis/EC24Apr.jpg?ssl=1
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