My Poetry. A lonely Flower.

How did this beautiful flower grow,
amongst the bracken and thickened snow?
It stands pert and proud on barren land,
a miracle held in a single hand.

All alone, a singular treat,
unaware of emotion or treacherous feet,
carried by songbirds from a warmer clime,
sealed by its prime, untouched by time.

Glowing so colourful, a sweet perfume,
avoiding the vases in humanity's front room.
Grow old, my flower, stand tall and assured,
carry the torch of an environment cured.

Warm up my life and make me alive,
bloom for eternity, germinate, and survive.
Seed for the pleasure and love that you give,
grow for the goodness and promise me "live."