Tender

We placed the seed in the earth

and patted the loose soil upon it.

We each took turns watering it

and before long it sprouted.

The little leaves reached, green, to the sun

while the tender roots took hold.

I saw a great deal of promise

In that tender little thing we had made.

Today I felt a chill in the air when I stepped out.

unseasonably cold and my heart knew.

Sure enough, the tender green shoot

lie flat and limp against the earth.

Death is something we must all learn

but no one is prepared for the real loss.

The death of possibilities.

The death of hope.

And so the tender shoot is gone,

and it’s lifeless form

a promise unkept,

and I wept for it.