Photo by John Richards

Photo by John Richards

An Orchid
Past its prime
Is not a sad flower.
It is wane, emptied of color
And without structural strength,
Yet something there, a juicy vagueness
Catches your eye,
Secures it to be watched.

An entire day may pass
And you will barely change your stance.
Mealtimes move on through
Yet you are there
Transfixed by the luminance.
Thinner and thinner it continues to be,
As water replaces fiber.
Still sustaining,
Living on, because it must,
Because you will.