I'm rough and rooted,
weather wounded -
I make you look beautiful.
I'm a darkened corner lending you its light.
I'm scarred, but steady
through each ebb and eddy
of your single, fragile season.
It's true that you're more pleasing to the eye.
But, I've watched flowers bloom and die
since God was a little girl.
Inspired by Hannah's prompt at Real Toads. And, if my migraine drugs don't deceive me, it's 55 words for my G-Man.