Ode To An Orchid, Long Anticipated

From out your tangled, tormented weave

of roots, I have wondered, 

           will I see a bloom 

                             again?

One year, two years,

              watering there, 

            watching for

                              a different shoot

among the roots

              that clutch 

                 and cramp

                        your tiny home

              of earth.

My friend --

I recognized the singular sprout

                   a tad too late

                            to keep it straight,

                      but there it is

patience brings

                                     a cluster of blossoms,

                             ready to burst --

but I must extend

                       my waiting state,

                      amazed, though

at your regenerate

                  condition --

my heart, too

                     wells with you