Gifted to me when they were just tightly – wound buds..
I placed them in water, so lovingly, in my finest vase.
Sleeping in their pods, they had no idea, still so unaware,
that they had traveled over mountains, had come such a long way.
I loved them from the very start, as they made me ponder
what colors and shapes, and what flowers did they hold inside?
As they stood tall and proud in their freshly- poured water
All was possible, endless potential because they were alive.
I had hope they would open wide on the night of Christmas Eve,
but they had their own time, their clock just ticked for them.
Then two days later, I awoke to see a chosen few, blushing pink
Only two, opening with the dawn, standing proud upon their stems.
Their birth made me smile wide, so pink,” Ah there you are!”
Now I bet the others will all come and join you in this dance…
But they waited; some were shy and took a few more days,
until Saturday, when almost all of them awoke by chance.
Those were their glory days, brightening up my room and making us smile.
Proud and pink and beautiful, even their green leaves had an extra shine.
Everyone who saw them, kissed them with their eyes, saying “MashAllah”
They stayed this way for five whole days, a splash of color from the Divine.
I am a poet, so the end days of these flowers were felt so deeply.
They started losing their lives on the last night, in the last year of such strife.
I couldn’t help myself, how they made me cry: I sobbed as their petals fell…
Not for the loss of the flowers, but for the reminder, that this is Life.
January 1, 2021