I No Longer Plant Flowers

Looking out on the meadow is surreal.
at the beauty.
Variety.
It is okay, you know,
that our favorite flowers do not match.
I understand that…
but you do not, do you?

Flowers…
soft petals on my face,
and thorns…
love is sharp today.
Too often we stick with thorns,
often others, not ourselves.

Flowers…
initially beautiful
full of human made meaning
trying to understand the bouquet…
the rose?
we should have no idea, the meaning.


Wait! NO!
Please do not pick me.
I will not survive you.

The meadows are wilting,
“Mommy, what’s a meadow?”
Curse of time,
human nature.

I did not survive him.

You are the Begonias
and me… no longer the Orange Blossom but, the grass you rooted in.
Sprouting peach blossoms.

Flowers…
delicate and lovely.
The strongest of them all may not fight against a beast.

Flowers destroyed by people,
not fit to tend to a garden.
Keep planting your flowers for me,
and do not mark my words.

I could not live to see even the Dandelions die on me one more time.

Looking out on the meadow is surreal.
this meadow might just go up in flames.
Look at us all
here for the ride.
planting flowers like we understand anything.