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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2168833
This poem is about holding to the evidence of things not yet seen by the eyes.
Expectation


A plant, dormant, standing straight and tall
Gray tissue flaying in the wind,
Battered by winter's frosty hands,
now shivering in the cold spring rain
reaching for the sky.

Spring's signs yet unseen, but it knows they will appear.
Waiting in anticipation it doesn't attend to despair.
Anchored in assurance that it hasn't been forsaken
waiting in faith to be awakened,
reaching for the sky.

The renewal didn't arrive
But through faith's eyes
where future hopes are seen
before they materialize;

It saw strong green stalks
filled with blooming pompoms of lace,
kissed on the face
by Colors fading from green to purple
Ceasing in pink, crowning its stem's peaks.

Although left in dormancy it gripped tightly the hope
That an appointed time to sprout life hadn't
forever passed it by
And continued to reach for the sky










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