The tulip had given its best.
It pushed itself through near-frozen soil
and withstood cold nights that took some
of its companions. It formed its bud slowly,
holding it closed until it was sure the threat
of freezing was gone. And then it opened,
full of splendor, its petals painted in a rainbow
of pinks, and corals and orange
For days it stood, offering its song to the garden,
to the sky, to all who chanced to pass by.
And when it finally spent itself and bowed
to the ground, the sky wept in pearly droplets
that bathed its dying petals in a wash of love,
in honor of all it had given,
for all that it had been.