Thee

I had heard the stories

of flowers, of fragrance

Had read a poem or two

of there being

a spring that never ends

I had seen a few

blossom and bloom

Flowers of varied colours

asway in abandon great

I had seen summer

give up on me

And give in to the winter

scorching my vulnerability

I had seen them flowers

wither and wilt

Before the next sunrise

came to greet

But a flower that is

there, always

Unwithered by the day

or the simoom at night

A fragrance that is

the reflection of who she is

That bloom, that blossom

I am blessed to behold,

blissed to converse with

That flower, that eternal spring

That life, that being

Who else, but thee.