The Last Flower II

Sitting beside the last flower,
the gardener wept,
and wept,
watering the red with tears.

The hope seemed lost,
lost in the blizzards of despair,
gone with the sad winds.
He wept and wept.

But one fine morning,
his love, the last flower,
came back to life,
sparkling like the lady in red.

It made him smile.
It gave him hope,
that the clouds will bless,
the spring will break,
and his valley will rejoice,
and it will be green.

He smiled at the rose,
grateful for the hope it gave,
and the love prevailed.
The good times came,
like never before.

How green is my valley !
said the proud gardener,
like never before !

The Last Flower

How green is my valley !
thought a proud gardener,
looking at his marvelous creation,
beaming all the way.

He sits among them,
nourishing with his own hands,
in heat, rain and storms,
shaping them into his dreams.

Desperate times came,
took away all the little ones,
and then the strong ones too,
except a tiny one with a red rose.

It was beautiful.
It was the hope.
It kept him alive.
It made him happy.

And then it was gone too.
The last hope of happiness.
The last Flower.