The Late Bloom

Some things are not meant to be.
But some are.
Who is to tell which is which?
Some episodes speed away.
But some take their time.
They are like the late bloom.

A seed fell on a dirty sidewalk.
It got trampled on.
Again and again.
It was not paid attention to.
Nothing was expected of it.
But it became the late bloom.

The world around went on.
A world within slowly sprouted.
It seemed small and weak.
It trembled at the wind.
But it somehow stood its ground.
It grew up to be the late bloom.

First, people were surprised.
Then, people predicted its doom.
Still, the sun shined bright on it.
The rain trickled down on it.
The wind became its friend.
They brought up the late bloom.

For years, it grew silently.
It reached upwards and sideways.
But leaves were all it had.
Its colour was deemed green.
It was an ordinary plant.
That is, till came the late bloom.

When no one was looking, it happened.
When no one hoped, it appeared.
It was not there last day.
There was not a hint of it.
But there it stood the next morning.
It was the late bloom.

Everytime they looked at it,
They could not help but smile.
Blooms they had seen many.
But the late bloom was special.
They knew what it was like to wait.
Their love was like the late bloom.