You do not hide, hibiscus, your teary
cries for life. Unrecognized by human
eyes and minds, who only see your beauty,
and not dreams for longer days. Nature’s plan

revealed your hurried span. How you wept, proud
flower, to be so upstaged… Delicate
and sheer of face, thrusting your colors loud,
you extend skyward, beseeching sad fate.

No god will listen to your wails, nor pen
your fate; but I will, lover of light. See?
I’ve captured your blight, your sorrow. And when
your sisters bloom, they, too, will pay the fee.

Now, as dark night folds your doomed petals tight;
weep not, others will take up hopeless fight.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/16/04