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Patient Flowers

Khloe Klopfer

The snow was dense and heavy on the snowdrop’s delicate stem, making her shiver and wail. When was the time to grow? Would it ever come? Or would she forever live in ugly torture? Would she forever live in darkness?

Suddenly, the snowdrop’s wishful prayers had been answered by the beautiful force that holds this world in its fingertips. The snowdrop saw a sliver of light, a raindrop on a painfully humid day.

She took it as a sign, her time would come soon, but she must be patient with herself, even if it hurt so horribly that she wished to scream in anger and frustration, she must wait.

So she did.

She waited, and waited, and waited.

Until that one, singular raindrop, became a thundering storm. All the ice drifted away to a happier place, while the beautiful snowdrop stretched her wings as the clouds and the sun kissed her and warmed her until her pale smile brightened the earth much more than the sun ever could. The poppies may look at her in disgust, the roses may shun her beauty, but she was happy. She was proud of herself for holding onto that piece of thread that those cruel poppies and envious roses could never have held onto for so long. She had been patient, she had been kind, and her love would live on longer than the rusted petals of the roses and poppies could imagine in their dark, shadowed roots.

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