Flowers are a
Vague strand
Of hope,
When everything
Around has
Surrendered to
The onslaught
Of dark.
The pale yellow
Of marigold might
Not shine enough,
To break the
Tethers of night.
The bright red
Of roses might
Sulk in a corner
After failing to
Summon ample
Amount of fire.
As, sometimes
Surviving the
Storm is important,
Than making a
Point.
The lilies and
The daisies,
As they wait,
Not yielding to
The subjugation
Of demons..
They become
Windows to the
Derailed rays of
Light.
The flowers
In the night are
The first songs
Of an arriving
Dawn.