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(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

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FLYING FLOWERS(for Lyn)

Field full of flowers.

“Poppy! ”
I tell her.

“Poppy! Poppy! Poppy! ”
my little poppet chants.

Picks flower
after flower
for hours

cradles them
in her dress.

Enough! Too much!

“Shhhh...! ”
I tell her
“...the flowers must rest...go to sleep! ”

“Flowers
...go sleeps! ”

she repeats

“Shhhh...! ”

Suddenly from
nowhere & everywhere

a scattering of
butterflies.

“Ah, flowers wake up! ”
she explains sensibly
to herself.

I tell her
when “...flowers dream
they can fly
they turn into butterflies! ”

All the way
home in the car

she strokes her
weary wilted flowers:

“Sleep...sleep...
dream...becomes butterfly! ”

And then adds: “...please? ”

Flying flowers
dancing in her little mind

totally believing in
my beautiful lie.

And as she too
falls into dreams

the car fills up
with flowers
flying flowers

her dreams escaping
into reality.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Edited: Thursday, May 29, 2008


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  • Scarlett Treat (3/4/2008 4:54:00 PM)

    Again, and as always, you traverse the child's mind with that beautiful, delicate touch that is so heart-felt. I don't think I have ever seen a more beautiful idea in print than flowers dreaming...to become 'buflies, ' as my youngest grand one calls them....thank you so much, Dearest, for this one. I loved it, right down to my bones...

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