Heavily adorned with bright yellow petals and a brown head laden with seeds,
gracefully supported by a tough yet flexible stalk,
I rose and fell with The Sun.
I was the most revered of all flowers,
but the way you worshipped me was beyond compare.
You came, poison ivy, dressed as a tempting honeysuckle.
You charmed me with your intoxicating fragrance,
your innocent demeanour,
and your empty promises of us thriving in the lush green meadow.
By nightfall, you had deftly invaded my territory while I slumbered on.
As I awoke, I could no longer differentiate your leaves, stems and roots from mine;
You had engulfed me.
As you silently sapped me of my energy,
my petals dried up, my leaves withered away and
my stem became brittle.
I surrendered to the ground with one last heaving sigh.
You mocked my dead corpse,
laughed at the grotesque confetti of my decaying petals,
rotten branches and grossly tarnished leaves,
and blamed my death
a curious case of horticultural euthanasia.
The sky raged into a fiery red that day.
You knew I was a heavy feeder.
My soil needed to be ripe with organic matter to thrive.
You could not eclipse The Sun, My Patriarch, from me,
so you overfertilised my soil when I was not looking and
burnt me alive in bitter acid.
You thought you would rule without me,
but what you ignored as I lay dying,
was I whispered to the birds and squirrels,
to take my everlasting seeds and deposit my ashes somewhere far away from you,
in a Paradise where I would rise again,
for I am a Perennial you see!
One thing you should have known,
you can’t survive acidic soil for long,
I await your slow but sure death.
Until we meet again,
Goodbye My Darling!