Far away a lone flower blooms.
Alive only by the soft light of the moon.
In a dream she catches the whisper of a tune.
The song of the lost and lonesome loon.
Hear the melody it is destined to croon.
Rich petals burst from the bud.
In every direction their color floods.
Delicate thorns on the stem like studs.
Earth beams up at the work of her flesh and blood.
Regrow with the moon and out of the mud.