Tuesday, July 16, 2019


Lone Flower

You were a flower of ravishing beauty
colors of kaleidoscopic complexity
shimmering, shadowed, sun-splashed
and there you were----- suddenly, 
standing in the middle of my path

I was halfway home
back bent beneath the
weight of time and duty,
portents of resignation
just around the next bend.
My heart was heavy
and my hands were full
and there you were;
defiant, singular, untrammeled
as if you’d chosen that spot 
to bloom for me alone

I stopped and reached for you
(Of course) 
They say the one true flower
blooms but one time
for one man
and so I had to stop for you 
that one time
in that one place
and reach for you 
rising from that dusty path.
I damaged a few petals
(in the process)
that fell to the dusty road.
I even bent your stem
and I am so sorry.
I should have known better,
I am so very sorry.
But you will bloom again
I know that you will bloom again 

The best that can be said 
is that I didn't try to steal your heart,
rip you roots and all
from the earth
to press between the pages 
of this old dusty book.
I had sense enough to only touch,
that one time, in that one place
which was the wrong time 
and the wrong road-----
But it couldn’t be helped.
For this flower was meant for me!
If only for one day
along a well trod path
that will never be the same.
I don’t know anything about flowers;
can’t tell a dahlia from a daffodil
from a bleeding heart from an orchid
from a longing from a loving
but this is the thing I know
as sure as a smile when
caught in a summer shower.

My solace is a place
outside of time
beyond the edges of maps.
Here is a field of flowers
swaying in the wind,
straining to receive the sun’s rays.
I will find you there
in the chapter I have written,
when my loads are lighter
when my work is done,
my little flower,
the hundreds of ways of you
all together as one
and the summer wind
and the sun and the stars and the moon
waiting there in this hidden meadow
my ever blooming you.


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