i saw a purple flower broken by the wind ..

a passerby had shored it up it seemed ..

so it could drink and mend ..

all the other hues of blooms never paid a mind ..

for from the sky it looked the same ..

and none did look behind ..

the earth and root had paid no mind as well ..

for growth of bud and seed desire ..

love and water for their smell ..

i’ll enter gardens gate when and if she calls ..

to cheer and touch for strength of stem ..

and kiss her shoulders soft and tall ..

©2003 Samuel Saint Thomas