A Little Flower

Dark and damp; somewhere cold, 

A little flower grows alone.

Left behind, 

By a world, to it, unknown. 

It shivers in the frigid dark.

Left colorless from the lack of light. 

Barely able to hold itself up.

Yet, it struggles on.

It is driven, every day.

By its fading hope, 

That it will be saved. 

It quietly, patiently awaits, 

The time when the sun, will come to it.

And shine down upon it.

To give it love and warmth, 

All the long day through.