The Flower and the Cactus
“Therefore, have done with this nonsense: you have no ground for hope: dismiss, at once, these hurtful thoughts and foolish wishes from your mind, and turn to your own duty, and the dull blank life that lies before you. You might have known such happiness was not for you.”
― Anne Brontë, Agnes Grey
The Flower and the Cactus
A flower she is reared in the forest
She freely lives shaded by the trees
The earths' bosom makes her bloom
As well as the sun makes her shine
The showering rain makes her gleam
And the damp soil makes her beautiful
She sleep in deep slumber unaware of an intruder
Who will rattle her solitude under her peaceful abode
He was a stranger, a time's passenger
A sturdy cactus he is, dwelling in the wilderness
Her heart betrayed her, for not long thereafter
She had fallen for him, a very stupid whim
To her heart's dictate she loved him at stake
And tried hard to reach that place where he is
But it was an awful place and even merciless
The heat was very hard it left her very tired
She begins to wilt as strength abandons her
She's in grave pain, everything's in vain
As she fainted from thirst, with thorns she was pierced
She lay there dying wishing for the spring
I truly pitied her, much as cried for her
How could I not since she was my heart
That failed to survive
In your desert - like heart
“From my window I watched the full moon—a moon that reminded me of Brett—become shadowed, little by little until there was only a deep blackness in the woods at night. I would sit there wakeful, hour after hour, and wonder if this aching around my heart, this sense of being alone, forlorn and unwanted in a world where there was gayety and love for others of my age, was going to continue for all of my days.”
― Irene Hunt, Up a Road Slowly
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© 2017 Himeko Sanbika
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