I recently realized that there was a poem from Creative Writing that I meant to post, but must have forgotten. There's a real story behind it, but I also wrote it with a deeper meaning as well.
Deep purple petals
And thick green stems,
A bouquet of fresh tulips
Thrust into a pair of hands,
Passed roughly to the next;
The once firm flowers bend,
Their stems have now gone limp.
The purple tulips lie—
Tossed carelessly aside—
Upon the wrought iron table,
And look as though they’ve died.
A loving hand gathers the blooms,
Takes them gently home.
A vase prepared, and water drawn,
The tulips placed inside.
With water fresh to soothe the hurt
The purple petals liven up,
And stems grow strong once more—
The flowers soon revive.