To the ordinary amaryllis,
The sun is everything.
A source of light, sustenance,
Something to aspire to.
The sun does not belong to one amaryllis, rather
It provides these gifts freely to all.
The torpid amaryllis rests.
For weeks, it lies inert despite the call of the sun.
The sun persists:
Wake up, little plant! Can’t you see me?
Without warning, the bulb breaks.
A hint of a leaf--
Could that be a flower?
A stalk begins to grow.
The amaryllis starts to reach and stretch,
Leaning and twisting to get closer,
But the sun remains transfixed.
Hello, little plant. It’s nice to see you.
Won’t you join me down here,
Now that I’m awake?
There’s so much to see,
And I want to share it all with you.
I can’t, little plant.
This is our lot:
I must sustain you and admire you,
And you must always depend on me.
A desperate bloom emerges.
Will you join me now?
Without you, I am nothing.
I must repay this favor!
I’m sorry, little plant.
Soon you will wither, and fall back to sleep,
And I will wait and watch you,
Until you rise again in the spring.