orpheus
planted this
little seed
before searching
for his beloved
eurydice
he played his
lyre
music so
holy and pure
the flower
bloomed
its tentacles
clinging to light
through
storm
and sleet
and torrential
rains
the flower
clung to life
dear god
this flower
young and forgotten
so many tramplers
upon it tread
do what you will
to protect
her from deception
those who choose
to pluck her
lovely
head