Magnolia

We, the magnolia tree
in winter walls white,
and deep:
BLOOM
We are the softest
purple pulp of sad songs
made beautiful,
over the smoothing of time.
Oceans rolled us over
in youth and
ironed all our wrinkles out
and left them floating
absent,
And while the summer young
were smiling,
we were dying.

We huddled gravely
roots cuddled us bravely,
til in the stillest night
of the whitest despair
through season's roof
we broke up through the cracks
in an unlikely pair

royal honoured display
among darkest days
magnolia magnified,
the fairest of fair.