Frost
Amna Sorbun
The shell was shed
And fell to the ground.
Petals reached for the sun
While the roots gathered ‘round.
The sun shone,
The weather was pretty,
And when the storms came through
The flower thought she was gritty.
The stalk bent in half
But she believed the lies of the sun;
That the she would be fixed,
And then they could have fun.
But then the sun deserted the pretty pink flower.
Frost breathed over the land,
And the essence of her life
Was in the palm of his hand.
The sun jeered from above,
Too high for her to feel his rays.
The roots withdrew to their base
And she withered day by day.
The pretty pink flower grew numb
From the cold.
The petals curled and crumbled,
And the sun’s jokes grew old.