Ode to a Narrow-Leafed Campion

The day grew long, but still,

I was constrained by the hours.

My heart danced, leaped, raced, 

Until it lost its way in the dusk and 

Sank beneath the stars.

The seasons embraced, but I was left in solitude

For Time was my only companion, and even she,

My fickle friend, was keen to depart.

As winter forced the heat to disperse,

I followed her scent to the meadow where,

Shepherd-less, I roamed,

Searching for the rarest rose.

Through the bramble I clawed,

And the thorns marked my heart red.

I could no longer see the rose I sought,

Plucked by the winds of passion –

The meadow now lay bare and desolate.

Everywhere I turned, I met an empty stare

As a tempest of loneliness set in,

So I closed my eyes and dared not open.

Inward I turned my gaze but

As the scars healed they led me to myself

And in myself I found strength.

Strength to search, to climb, to strive.

And as I traversed the peaks and valleys,

I came upon the arctic, where

With a staff of patience and resolve,

I made my way over the frost-bitten stones,

Feeling every sign beneath my soles

Incline me to bend to the snow-white gem

That lay hidden within my reach.

So gently in my palm I cradled the seed

That survived thirty-thousand years

Waiting for my heart to burgeon.

At last in the warmth of my hands

You flowered, soft and white

And in that moment I would forsake

All ease to shelter you from any plight.

A narrow-leafed campion,

Delicate and pure,

You took thousands of years to bloom

And now I know why.