Embers smoke with wisps of grey
the flame reduced to coal,
The flower folds its petals in
to protect its hurting soul.
The spark that gives the fire life
has blown to a distant shore,
The flower sits alone, forgotten
the fire's warmth soothes no more.
The flower weeps in restless sleep
dreams of the flame she misses much,
While the flame recalls with a heavy heart
the flower that loved its touch.
Then on a breeze of cool air
the spark blows back to home,
To warm the air the flower needs
to wake its sleeping bloom.
And as the flower blossoms
when its face turns toward the rain
The embers glow and strengthen
and the fire burns bright again.
this is a very good poem well written keep on writing I enjoyed the read
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem, enjoy reading it.