The Orchid.

I woke up this morning with vigor in my veins,
bound and determined to have a really productive day.
Stretching, picking up clothes, and getting ready to go
downstairs ensued.
I don't know why it caught my eye this morning.
The mildewed moss inside the squared
glass box.
I tried to make the coffee first,
but it's corpse-like stance drew me back to it ...
Like some memory long forgotten.
Like a haunted, crispy room.
Approaching, I realized what it was.
It had been vibrant, purple once .
Endearing in the strangest of ways.
Embracing me on the tiny nightstand
when I slept once.
Alone.
It saw me through a trying time.
And when I thought I'd lost myself
It shielded me from things that hurt
and reminded me to stay.
Colorful.
The orchid is dead now.
It's time to let go.
The season of it has passed.
But I will not forget
All it's dream-catcher ways.
As it served its purpose
at last.

"To every thing there is a purpose under heaven.:"

Maybe someday I will be that for someone.
And have a purpose.
and be my true colors .
Fulfilled.
So that when it comes time for me to revert into my own glass box,
I will welcome the peace with open arms....
Resting in the knowledge that I never
conformed to anyone's shades
of grey.