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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at St. John's chapter.

The Gardener and His Flower

became strangers.

As the seasons changed,

the winter ultimately tore them apart.

His flower wept and wept

Becoming flaccid and grey

His once-vibrant flower

Overpowered by snowflakes and loss. 

Above the carpels head, 

the billowing clouds subsided with hues of gold

A warm commencement of Spring

As the mountains of snow began to melt 

And streams began to ripple. 

The Flower is so happy yet, hollow 

The beaming sun 

Scorched the Flower;

Wilting its’ eyelids

Their boastful petals

Became shrivel and meek;

The Gardener’s admiration dwindled.

The carpel rampaged; outpouring 

Yet, the Gardener watered the flowers’ seeds

The carpel rampaged 

Yet, the Gardener planted fresh soil

The flower dissected his insides

And the Gardened would gently console its’ petals

Sewing each leaf with caution

The carpel, then, bit the gardener 

Opening his wounded hand

–A rosebud?

The shade of pink was so soft

So sweet 

It spoke

And it just loved me.

Julissa Osorno

St. John's '24

Julissa is a first-gen, Colombian master's student. She is currently a research assistant in CHIRP. Her research interests include addressing race/ethnicity in Latinx-American and immigrant populations. Aside from writing and reading peer reviews, she enjoys watching movies, listening to music, and eating sushi!