Ode to a 42 year old Azalea

In the heart of the garden, where whispers catch,
Stands I, an azalea, with time’s latch.
Four decades strong, in bloom and bough,
I hold the seasons, then and now.

My roots, deep in the nurturing earth,
Bear witness to my enduring worth.
Twisted branches, wide and wise,
Tell tales of suns and winter skies.

Each spring, a burst of life anew,
A canopy of pink, red, white, or blue.
My flowers, in abundant grace,
Dance with the breeze in a tender embrace.

Bees and butterflies in joyous flight,
Find in my blossoms, pure delight.
In my presence, time slows its pace,
As nature’s rhythm finds its place.

A living legacy, I’ve grown and thrived,
Through hands that have planted, pruned, and strived.
A testament to care, a sight to behold,
In my leaves, a story of years untold.

Birds nestle within my sheltered arms,
Finding refuge from life’s alarms.
Beneath me, a carpet of petals lies,
A colorful testament to nature’s ties.

More than a plant, a symbol I stand,
Of time’s passage, at nature’s hand.
In my existence, both strong and sublime,
I embody the dance of life and time.