Echos of Admonishments

By: Isabella Lazzara 

A flower resides in the middle of a field, 

It’s delicate petals quivering from the passage of time. 

Beside it, a tree remains, its bark worn by innumerable winds, its branches etched by storms unknown. 

Both remain bound, as the seasons pass each year 

Spring’s tender warmth 

Summer’s fierce blaze, 

Autumn’s soft decay, and winter’s weight. 

They endure the same sun’s burning gaze, 

share the quiet wonder of the same cold moon, and wish upon the same shooting star. For something beyond the tangled roots that conceal them. 

The flower, frail yet wise, 

wished no more for the trees worn down apologies 

and the tree to not be tied down to his strong ideologies. 

For each one is a sigh, worn thin by repetition, and false dawns. 

A melody of regret that never finds its end. 

They dwell intertwined 

rooted in the same field. 

The flower unable to detach from perspicacity 

The tree dreams of breaking free from the weight of his own beliefs, Of shedding the thick bark of rigid certainty. 

The tree is unable to escape from his thoughts. They surround him like a sea of crows. Yet the flower knows the truth hidden beneath the soil, and the tree’s deceptive strength. 

For his thwarted roots stretch deep. 

Leaving no space for the fragile threads of her own dreams. 

Here, in the stillness of the field, they tarry.

Not by choice, but by the cruel wisdom of the earth— 

A flower, a tree, 

Both yearning for the sky, 

But anchored in each other’s shadow.