The Columbine

In a world of stone and concrete

A gentle flower was born

A bud was slowly forming

A timid glance at this world

It yearns to share its beauty

Others there surely are

Yet in this world filled with cold unlife

How can such things be spoken?

The young flower resolves to be silent

Simply living the beauty it knows.

With time the young flower grows carefree

Today will be the day

Its azure petals gently parting

To share beauty and grace with the world

Then comes the uncaring boot

Any warning is now too late

The crushing pressure, irreversible fate

And the Columbine flower is gone.

Blue petals barely formed

Burgeoning life extinguished.

Yet the caring hand descends

Lifting up the slain young flower

Its value now known by many

Immortal to beholding eyes

In death, the flower has conquered

Its petals, in memory, undying

A jaded world stopped for the briefest of moments

And recognized oft-forgotten beauty.

The Columbine flower remains in remembering hearts

Forever young and hopeful.

Randall Madden

April 9, 2014