THE FLOWER

A lone flower sits upon a desolate plain.

It is alone in the dry soil.

It hadn't rained in years.

The flower sits, waiting for rain, slowly dying from thirst.

It is withered and dry.

It's leaves crumpled.

It's gorgeous petals faded of color.

The flower knows no company.

Nothing grows here.

It is just the flower, the sand, and the sun.

Each slowly killing it as she wastes away to nothing.

A cloud on the horizon.

A glimmer of hope for rain.

The flower strains her withered leaves toward the sky, reaching for the rain, begging for a drink.

The cloud passes not giving a drop and the flower slowly crinkles and dies.