The purple star flower struggles
Against the plucking of my fingers
Late November,
On the stem, all the other blooms
Withered or fallen away
Succumbing to frost
But not you
You cling to the vine
Defy the North Winds,
Resolute, your will to live
The rest of your kin gone
Orphaned blossom
Still, you hang on
So, I must leave you there
As you are
My bud vase unfilled
I cannot vanquish
Your triumph over the force of
Of changing seasons