She was precious, glowing like the
Headlights through steamy windows,
Fragile like snow on branches.

She raised a delicate flower,
Beautiful in its simplicity,
Small in stature but
Strong in heart.

He was a lion: great and majestic,
Proud and aloof. Away he ran
To hunt new territory, leaving
The flower to grow to the Sun
And not to him.

As she tried to grow ever taller,
Her petals fell one by one
To the ground until she was
Naked and alone.

The shine of her mother dulled
Until her precious nature was
All but forgotten.

When the lion eventually returned,
His mane was gone, but they
Remembered him, and he them.

One heart born of two,
Two hearts born of one,
Complete at last.

12/19/2011

Posted on 02/12/2012
Copyright © 2025 Richard Vince