The flower and the desert

I am but a barren desert,

Where, a beautiful flower is sown;

Plucked from a garden of happiness,

By fate so cruel.

My sands so loose,

That any root can dig deep fast;

But alas!

Its easy to uproot too.

My sands still loose,

That the roots shall leave,

Forever its impression;

And my sands so dry,

That never shall another bloom,

There from where the roots once parted.

Oh! I wish I could have been

The garden that once you adored,

Though I know am a desert

And not a garden of happiness;

But I shall sweat and I shall cry,

Till my tears and sweat

Form a pool, an oasis,

For my sweet flower to dwell;

So never shall it die,

Of heat nor exhaustion,

Though am no garden,

But just a barren desert.