The Lone Tulip Poem by Reema Kawatra

The Lone Tulip

Peaks of heaven gathering darkness,
as night falls heavy upon the snow-still mountains,
alpenglow proffering a reddish-glow,
I traverse the landscape around the winding road.

Breaking-off from the guttural retort,
of Harley in-sync with the throb in my chest,
the shepherd, I see him wielding his crook,
the herd of llamas on fallow fields at the nook.

Resilient it stood in the crud,
like a lone ranger on the battlefront,
the colour of brooding dusk,
the Lone Tulip in the evening musk.

Valiant in the crisp winter evening,
brazen, brash and the most untamed,
no companion, it knows no aide,
living on the edge, with senses frayed.

Mystifying enigma of beauty and mettle,
the Lone Tulip stood as poised as a danseur,
enrapturing the bystander by an effortless sway,
thrilling with escapades of wide array.

The silhouette of the wild horse on the horizon,
the years as they pass by, shall both wizen,
only less, but for the mountain that overlooks,
eternal and firm, despite all that it's brook.

The Lone Tulip shall forever rouse,
from the recesses of the heart of the most fearless,
a life ebbed with distresses and insecurities,
the reality of being in all its purity.

By: Reema Kawatra ©