I found you in the depths of thick terrain.
I guessed you were a beauty, winsome, fair.
But lo, too young; your stem was budded plain,
the climax of your figure wasn’t there.
I trusted you would blossom in a week,
but I had doubt I could return by then.
And I expected I would miss your peak
if I could even find you once again.
Your basal leaf gave hint to who you were:
a freckled maiden, delicate and white.
Yet without face, I could not be so sure;
Thus left uncertain, here I sigh, contrite.
And so I kiss my hope to see you ‘bye
unless I find you blooming next July.
Published in Spring Thaw Spring 2021 Itasca Community College