She is the beauty of the pond,

The grace within the grotesque waters.

Her elegant presence blinds one from her confinement.

Her head bursts through the water,

Grasping for the sun,

The current tries to seize her, but the vine represses her.

She seeks to be cut from the stock that anchors her down.

The lily calls the water her home,

Only she knows there’s more out there for her.

Her sister in the distance,

Roaring like the beast she is.

The naive beauty that comes with her sound.

Her leaves whistle and drift with the wind,

To find her own place to land.

A place to call her own.

The tiger lily,

As pure as she is,

She is naive of the world.

Radiant reds,

And glistening yellows,

Color the sister of the land.

Color the tiger herself.

One in companionship with the sun itself,

The tiger lily is ignorant to the shadow below.

The dingy absence of light,

The murky waters reside.

Desolate in nature,

The water lily resides

In her dreary pond

Dreaming of more.

Never to be free,

Tethered to the floor

Of what she used to call home.

The plumb hue to her petals,

And the sapphire tips,

Blind viewers of her loneliness.

Though most settle,

She is not fond of the lagoon.

The tiger lily ambitious,

The water lily solitary,

One naive of her sister,

The other resented her kin.

One wishes for more, 

Wishes for a feat.

But she has to stay alone in her pond,

While her sister savors the sun.

Alone, knowing there’s more,

And

Naive but prosperous,

The lilies of the land,

Neither of them are truly alive.