When I was younger, I wished to grow
Like the sunflower I had planted in my mother's garden after a Sunday Morning at church
I was told by Sister Mary,
"With the right nourishment, this little seed in this tiny cup will grow so big that it will need an entire *** to hold it."
I wonder if she knew that my seed would grow to be eight feet tall
I would have told her, but I stopped going to Sunday School
And I grew as I had hoped
But I did not stand straight as the sunflower did
And my face did not bloom into beauty, either
My middle resembled more that of a pear than a stalk,
soft and curved about the belly
Plus the girls around me grew much faster
And matured into lilies and daisies and roses
And I am still growing
Much longer than I had hoped to grow with much less results
And what I wouldn't give now to be small
To scrunch and squeeze inward,
Folding at my elbows and knees,
And tucked away.