PICTURE HERE: https://pic8.co/sh/t7oOFl.png After the fire, before the rain, A flower in bloom outward came. Dust and ashes, barren stems, There was only one left of them. ~ On a moon lit forest floor, There was only the one, and no more. It reached up to the skies in the dark, Struggling for life, a contrast stark. ~ If it could live, then it would die, But its seeds it would leave behind. And with more seeds, a family could grow, And the forest would have more flowers to show. ~ A buzz and a wisp fluttered up to it, The fairy saw wanting a closer glimpse. She thought they were gone, dead and burned, But there was one left, so she learned. ~ With out stretched arms and feather like hands She reach to the peddles where the flower stands. "Oh my lovely, last lonely flower" She whispered to it over the hours. ~ Alas when dawn came, twas time for her to hide Back into the forest, where she abides. The flower stood left, its magic stayed. And so the flower grew, and died one day. ~ It dropped its seeds back to the earth, And the next year, two more gave birth. Thus is the cycle, for the only one lain. The last flower grows, dies, but its seeds remain.