My Fuchsia

How fragile my fuchsia in purple and blue,
Her delicate form reminiscent of you.
Her skirt, a brides dress, in whites and creams,
Forever in my thoughts, forever in my dreams.

In the cold depths of winter, with frost all around,
Her branches are bare, her leaves on the ground.
She looks to the sky and yearns new morns,
As a wisen old lady recalling past dawns.

To the new summer days, with their blankets of heat,
My fuchsia is blooming, there’s warmth at her feet.
New life brings new hope, the waiting is done.
Forever and ever she depends on the sun.