HOPE

 The sun sat down, soon it was dark when the night fell.

The sky was starry, a treat to watch together,

Then came the night, the flower drooped, and lost the spell.

It wept dew, in that dark hue,

The gardener was perplexed, he stood and watched the shew.

Then the sky blead, and the sun rose bright,

Blessed by the rainbow, the gardener saw the light.

He nurtured the flower, with utmost dedication,

The flower refused to bloom, without an indication.

Then came the bees, aiming to churn honey with a swollen bosom,

Infuriated, they stung the gardener, for the flower refused to blossom.

Their duty that prevailed, mending the path that derailed,

The gardener was glad, so was the flower; for the journey that they had scaled.

The flower, personified with thorns around,

Was being fostered upon a ground so profound.

Undirected and purposeless, the gardener was all at sea,

For he didn't know, what he should not, and what should he see.

A morning that loomed, a flower that gloomed,

The gardener was given the reasons; he realized he was shroomed!

Upon the rising tides, maneuvering a sinking ship,

Yet he strides through, beyond the lashing whips.

There it went, and a petal rose,

Not succumbing, but to the tone of its own prose.

The misery that he went through, and the one it felt,

Made each one realize and they both decided to melt.

With a chance so slim, the flower decided to cope,

The gardener joyed out of gaiety, he had his "hope".

That joyous memento lived a bubble's life,

He went too emotional to realize, his love took his neck upon the "knife".

Out of the blue, he could still inhale the essence,

Confused, he could still smell the flower, spreading its fragrance.

Reluctance if that could justify, should it stay or elope,

The flower drooped again, and took away what it gave... "Hope"!