Flora's Last Kiss

She leaves her watchtower, when it's warm and dry,
to kiss her blossoming babies goodbye.
She sings them lullabies, in a grieving tone,
knowing they will perish from hypothermia, very soon.

She returns to her post, reluctant and remorseful,
and watches, from afar, as they shelter their eyes from the cold.
Her smooth, porcelain complexion changes to the color of her broken heart,
as her frozen tears bury the spectator trees alive.

She will stay this way all season, but the world won't know her pain.
The oblivious humans will look outside to find a beautiful mystery,
a tranquil, winter sky, merged with spring, with no explanation.
But humanity won't care; they never do.

They will dance in her tears and crush them.
They will watch, in awe, as her hair leaves a trail of destruction.
They will sing her praises, day and night,
but they will never know how she came to be.

So, she anticipates the time, when it's warm and dry,
as she patiently waits to kiss the frost goodbye.
She sings herself a lullaby, in a comforting tone,
knowing that her babies will bloom again, very soon.