Flora

A flower stripped of its petals defies the marauding wind
Unchosen, unpicked; ignored by a lovely maiden's whim

Its sordid pollen cries out into the world that birthed it
Finding sanctity only within those who have cursed it

Cast aside in an election of elegance, taking root in turmoil
Chaos belies reason for a change of season and soul

In her eye the fire kindles, still abandoned the flower remains
Haunted, unwanted; drowned beneath the summer rains

Fingers of frost besiege across the shadow of the barren stem
Nature concludes its cycle and reclaims its forgotten gem