Orchid

A beauty so often paired with death, yet nothing preaches so.

A sermon you do give but seldom of sorrow,

So why when we see you why must people shed tears?

They turn their face away, but you've done nothing wrong.

You cannot see nor feel them you simply grow nearby,

And people pluck you up so not one but two will die.

Yet you don't even get the pleasure to be grasped in the beloved's hands.

That is left to your thorned brethren whose symbol of love bewitches the land.

Your beauty lost to symbol of which you shouldn't bear,

And when people come and see you they try to avoid the stare.

Bad luck they say you bring.

An omen of things to come.

I see no reason for the superstition,

Yet it's more and more believed.

Maybe one day though your beauty will show through,

And people won't be frightened but taken aback by you.

For your beauty can't be captured so they tried to tie you down

By ripping you up when loved one's die from your so sacred ground.

Don't fret beloved for soon it won't be so

For if the people listen then everyone will know.

That your beauty needn't be muddled by your burden,

And you are not an object to console the hurting.

You are a delicate lady with a soft and silent power

The most ferocious of your kind; the lovely orchid flower.