Confession of a scribe (Poems)

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The Flower on the Riverbank

By the river, On its shore

There is a Flower I have never seen before.

Only the sun’s bountiful warmth

Tickles Her stem to spur her growth.

Only the rain, kissing the ground

Could make Her beauty bloom all year round.

When the cold wind comes blowing down,

She does not break, She only bows.

And when the snow falls from the sky,

She does not wither, She does not die.

She grows there, waiting for the one

Who will pick Her up and take Her into his arms.

I’ve searched these lands far and wide

And watched my steps with every stride

Hoping that one day I would see

The loveliest of flowers is seated here, in front of me.

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