Unrequieted

You moved among the flowers; those that yielded to your touch you picked.
You held them in your hands and with your breath caressed them; their sweetness had you tricked.
You placed them carefully in water, thinking so to make them last.
And, for a time, they gave you pleasure, though that pleasure held not fast.
Now the garden's empty, save the one that will not yield.
She clings, deep-rooted, to the soil, bringing life back to the field.
She is lonely in her beauty.
At night, the dew is cold.
She tempts you to destroy her.
It's her strength that makes her bold.
And you so want to possess her.
She wants to be possessed.
But, you both know, everlasting beauty, left to grow, will prove to be the best.