If Only

I was visiting the graveyard
 To see someone I hadn’t seen in a while.
 I bent down to touch the smooth, freshly laid stone- my heart almost tore apart
 And tears rolled down my cheeks to the tomb of the girl who deserved to smile.

There was only a row of jagged leaves on a vine
 Entwined around her grave- the world had left my friend with nothing but this.

Beneath the moss growing in an orderly line
 I saw a little flower-choked by the thorns growing above it amiss
 And I picked up the gentle thing-
 Though now November, it was bound to bloom by early spring.

The flower was tiny, dull yellow, almost too frail-
 It was gently curved over the edge of the green leaf with great detail.

I took it home, placed it in an ordinary glass
 And with water and a little sunshine, I let it grow.
 December, January and February had all passed
 And now, the flower had bloomed-it no longer hung down low.

I felt like the proud parent of a young child-
 Watching my beautiful flower sway in the breeze, I smiled.

Suddenly I felt an ache somewhere inside
 And my bottled up emotions poured out as I cried.
 The little flower said so much though it spoke not a word-
 If only that fearful night, my friend’s cry for help was heard.

-Salonee Kumar