Broken Blossom

A Poem for the Flower That Forgot to Bloom Again

I found you not in grand display,

But growing quiet by the way,

No thorns to guard, no scent to sell—

Just grace where stillness chose to dwell.

You bloomed in silence, slow and shy,

A whisper soft beneath the sky.

I never touched — I simply stayed,

And watched your wonder, unafraid.

Petal by petal, you let me near,

Not with a voice, but presence clear.

You didn’t speak, yet I could hear

The kind of peace that drew me here.

You knew my storms, though none were said,

You caught my tears the world had shed.

And in your hush, my soul could rest,

Like secrets sealed in nature’s chest.

But then the days grew strangely cold,

Your colours dulled, your body fold.

I watered soil, I whispered still,

Yet you withdrew beyond my will.

Did I come too close, too soon, too deep?

Did I expect you mine to keep?

Or did the wind just change its course,

And silence ride on time’s own horse?

I pass your place, pretend I’m fine,

But emptiness still draws the line.

Other flowers bloom, it’s true,

But none breathe peace the way you do.

And if I could go back, I’d tread

Much softer paths around your bed.

I’d speak in slower, warmer tone,

And let you know you’re not alone.

But flowers choose where they unfold,

And some retreat when seasons scold.

So, if you bloom for someone new,

Let them be soft. Let them see you.

As for me? I’ll hold your name

Like gentle fire without blame.

And if your petals stay unseen,

I'll honor what we might have been.

So, grow where light and kindness meet,

Let sun and rain kiss at your feet.

And if you never turn again—

Just know you healed me, little friend.

And still, I wish, with silent ache,

That you’d return. Just once.  

By Wabwire Elias