Epiphany

I was a dying ember.
I lost my way completely
My flowers were dead
Opheliac depression.

Shards of glass roses
Cracked and broken
Like my life seemed to be
Dandilion oppression.

And now I love you.
The way the morning
Loves the coming of the sun.
Reseeding with aggression.

The life that was
Is now over.

How ironic is it
that you are a gardener
who rescues flowers
from the bottom of ponds?