A decade’s patience, coiled in the soil
Beneath the hot and humid jungle’s coil
Only then rises high a dark and fluted spire
Wrapped in a cloak of deep maroon and fire
No pleasant scent to call the golden bee
But the carrion scent of a corpse-like misery.
Titan Arum, an amazing awe of the plant life
That garners energy for years to bloom once
It is known as corpse flower or corpse plant
That it casts carrion scent beyond our sight
A giant’s chalice, imposing and briefly bold
A story of the planet that’s very rarely told
Two days of glory, then it bows its head
To join again the silence of the dead.
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