After I destroy the evil tree,
That had once kidnapped me
As a little girl,
Having a bad dream,
I walk the pink trail that leads to my chosen meadow.
.
The beautiful trees and birds
Where we all sip tea,
And enjoy each other's company.
.
My petals fully heal,
Purple and surreal.
I see the butterflies and cardinals,
Bearing God's grace,
He saved me from Dahlia's fate.
.
I'm no longer stuck in that pot
Where rose petals watched every spot.
Mother has been blocked,
Her stems had been cut,
She cannot leave her own pot.
.
There's just a hole beneath her
Where she'll go once she's dead,
She'll belong to the flower heads
That eat and hold severed threads.
.
I join my chosen flowers
And have my leaves,
Suddenly, my face glows
And changes its scenery.
.
Here, I am, just a flower,
That was once deprived of water.
Here, I am, just a flower,
Who could bloom
Due to the water
And its healing powers.
.
The trees and their lace
The daisy's pink bows,
The white magnolia's crows,
And the pink rose
All exist in this space,
And bloom where coneflowers relate.
.
The songbirds and their tea
And God's symphony
And my family's company,
Revived my catastrophe.
.
I've made my own fairytale come true,
Here, my garden and meadow aren't blue;
just a restructured home for a healing muse
of a troubled teen who had sung the tunes
of deadly songs that removed her youth.
.
Like pink glue,
We are woven whole
Of glamorous flowers
in a meadow.