Raise you? Nurture you into an ideal? And if it doesn't work? And the new flower withers? All my fault.
What utter nonsense. You cannot change a grown-up person.
You cannot shave their thorns and prune their leaves, cut off the roots and dye the petals.
Accept, if you can live with a green daffodil, if not - move on to find your tulips.
Watch your pretty lotus, or let the roses intertwine.
Or will the daisies grow a circle round the tree?
And cacti form a garden. Trees instead of people.
A forest as a playground.
Wild cornflowers as the only residents of my heart.
YOU ARE READING
To you, I sing across the moon
PoetryOne day I sat down and spun a story to the stars above. Hoping they can keep a secret. But the moon, that traitor, turned around and told you everything I said. About you. And about this world. All my little idle thoughts grew roots and flesh. No...
