May Flower Is The Saddest Girl Poem by Evolet Powell

Her time to shine: the 5th
hour of the year gleams
like a golden sun ready to radiate,
permeate, Her roots
and fill Her crown top full
of life with May dew
twinkling in the glaze of light;
everyone will be there to watch
Her glow. She'll reach out of Her shade
to the brightness
for the first time
in all of grasslands.
Wait—weeds rustle, blink slowly to
pass the time,
Silence—still air passes through Her hairs,
Patience—endless patience,
they'll be here soon, maybe
they'll enter a surprise,
like the sudden shift of clouds
before the sun would arrive to water Her parched soul.
But none arrives, except a falling
sky; droplets tinkle off her dainty
bells—she must let them drops fall; else
let her petals rot,
rot and shrivel and wither away
from the inside out.
"We could only have made it in April or June."
The wind hushes, it pours up and over
the rocky peaks.
you're alone. Less
the bushes that stare. Quiet, but the
pebbles that bore into
your hollow, sere soilness.
No one's coming to celebrate you
girl,
don't be selfish.
That lily will remain in that valley,
smothered in that cold dirt.
her flower will haze over and wilt
in the shadows of the mountains
looming over her
until summer comes
then it's someone else's turn.