Amid the rubble of crumbling concrete
a seed, unwittingly sown, sends its tender shoots
pushing toward love’s light.
Ever so gently, but with iron purpose
does it break up the stones of a hardening heart
on a journey to greet the sun.
Fragile roots probe the source of being
to draw nourishment from wellsprings
that lie hidden from self awareness.
Until finally, a single triumphant bud
unfurls its petals in full beauty
to herald a new season.
The first sign of spring has arrived
after the fruitless winter of my selfish youth…..
My daughter, my wildflower!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very lovely again...i like your use of a wildflower...but then the beauty of any flower is touching..even if it be only a daisy in the spring....i am a rose person of course when you read thru alot of my writing you will come to notice that...a blooming rose touched by the tips of my fingers...is like a touch to a childs hand..tender and soft as the rose petals feel....lovely write..thank you deb... ~^..^