~The Flower~

A flower felt a shadow pass over her face,
As a young boy plucked her from the ground.
The boy held the flower in a gentle embrace.
The flower was so moved by the love she had found.

All her perfume she released for him to smell.
And she let a pedal drop into his loving hand.
The scent dazed him as though he was in a spell.
But the flower was wilting; he did not understand.

The flower bent over as she thirsted for sun,
For water and dirt from which she was taken.
It was too late for it could not be undone.
She gave up all she had and was now forsaken.

You are that boy and I am the flower.
My heart I gave up to your loving care.
My life I have given and is in your power.
It is my happiness that which you bear.

~Mirvaneth Tellaris~


Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Fas, in the year 518 AD.