"A poppy bud
is blooming
somewhere in a field"

and I am lighting a candle
my feet sore from the day
spent working, spent
painting the way light moves
across a field

"It's opening
and no one sees it."

and I am washing out
rings in my coffee cups
again, hands dry
rinsing the suds off
of shiny metal

"It's funny,
no one tells a flower to bloom."

and I am thinking about what
you said to me
about red poppies and lavender.
and I am pulling the blankets
up over my eyes,
and no one sees it.

No one tells a flower to bloom
or
to love you as hopelessly as I do.