Desolate garden

Here I stand
On claimed land
My face sunburned and voice bland
A beautiful flower
falling out of of my shaking hands
I mill about, looking for a place to call my own
A spot to plant, so this this flower can thrive
Never attracted by a vase
Confined, decorated man made space
My precious flower now beginning to wilt
I search for a spot that is suitable
Nothing resembling fertile soil in sight
Afraid it won't grow
I keep my flower safe within my grasp
Today will be the day!
I will dig past the dried cracked soil in my way
Tall and proud I will take my stand
That flower in the ground! instead of my hand
Too scared to let my flower go, I leave it safe inside my hand
That barren soil left in it's place
Never to be placed in an average vase
I wait and wait for the rain to come
To drench the land and make it suitable
No cloud in sight, just the sun, burning bright
Merely wanting that beautiful flower to grow
I keep it close and safe
Or so I think
It too is alive and needing a drink
Both of now on death's brink
I should have known in this sun we would dry out
Why didn't I think?
Laying sprawled on the dried earth
The flower wilted and brown
I realize now what a waste it has been
I am afraid to dig, for one reason or another
SO i wait for the rain
I wait and wait
never wanting to possibly dig in the wrong spot
afraid of what I might find
Afraid to make a spot mine
I should have just dug
That rain never came
My flower is dead
I will live with this forever
Just wondering what it may have looked like
Had I found the courage to dig a small hole
to plant my precious flower and let it grow.