Once, a flower beckoned to me.
She grew wild,
Sweetened by mountain rains,
In a forest glade near a stream-side trail.
Butterfly pairs were spiraling together,
Upwards, in their dance of flirtation,
In the warm, early summer sun,
As she strove to be seen
Above the tall untamed grasses around her.
She would not have been a wild rose;
She preferred to be a wild yellow iris.
I picked this blossom from that field,
And placed her into a vase
With bluebirds painted on the side.
Together we danced within a fragile world
Of sunshine, moonlight, and showers.
This flower, though snipped,
Stayed vibrant for such a very long time;
Smiling at every new day;
Seeing the good in all that passed her way;
Until she ran out of miracles.
Still, frowning knew not her brow,
And even as she wilted, she knew not how.
Then, the call of a mountain spirit
Echoed down through the valley…
And she had to go.
I once was loved by this flower.
Wherever I traveled, she was with me;
Whenever I had to leave her,
She remained to greet me once again.
Colorful, she was, like the annual blooms;
And, perennial, was she, in her love for me.
Once, a flower moved me from my path,
And lives were changed
Forever for the better;
And love was cultivated wherever she’d be.
9-9-2015 (Summerside, Prince Edward Island)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow. That was brilliant. Words fail me. I've given you a 10/10.
Thanks so much, Tan... my flower left this world 7 months ago today. -BG