Black Orchid

In the darkest forest
the black orchid blooms.
With petals of never ending
sorrow, for no light it consumes.
It’s sepals are wilting,
by no hands it’s been touched ,
choked by the shadows,
longing to be clutched.
It muses in silence,
that it could be a rose,
but alone in this darkness
the black orchid grows.
Oh, to have lips that could
speak, or eyes that could cry.
For then it would weep,
and let out a sigh,
but in this dark forest
the black orchid blooms,
amongst these dead trees,
It’s death so soon looms.