Winter for a Flower

February 10, 2008
The wind grows colder and colder by day,
There is no one here to shield me,
I will soon fade away,
From my Earthly form I will be free.

The cold will cause me to wither,
There really is no escape,
I hear the heavens call “Come hither,”
To survive means a mutated shape.

My ancestors face this every year,
Only some of them could stay alive,
I’m not strong enough, I fear,
I am only a flower with a will to survive.

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