I Thought I'd Killed It

I found this amaryllis several years ago, not long after Christmas. 

It was in a mark-down bin at the grocery, thrown in 

among other holiday themed items.

I picked up the box, paid for it, and brought it home.

It's been sitting in its pot in the window ever since. Leaves begin

to appear about the middle of each January,

with a trio of blooms showing, well, just about now.

Once the leaves appear, the stalk grows rather quickly, along

with the buds.  Sometimes there's a second stalk, but not often.

Usually there are three blooms at a time, 

but I just noticed a fourth.  

I love their grace, and the way the light

shines through, adding depth and lines that hold my

eyes' attention every time I look their way.

Their color and shapes wither away all to soon.

I regard the bright red flowers are a gift,

one made to me by the flowers themselves.

Last winter, however, there were no flowers;

I thought I'd neglected it so that there would be

no more little red celebrations, but I persisted in watering it,

refusing to throw away the bulb and its pot.

This week, they returned and I gaze at them

every so often, even as I type.