Stealing Flowers to Borrow Happiness

Sometimes I just want to go to a garden And take all the flowers I can clutch in my hands The sweet-smelling, luminous, simple and poisonous (when ingested) Then scurry away before the gardener knows Though I’ve taken bits and pieces of grueling work and pride— To her or him—it’s far more than that, it’s happiness— And a little bit borrowed from a friendly, flowery neighbor Is hardly worth complaining about, maybe even worth a smile And I press the gentle, fragrant ones In the hard covers of my favorite books They’ll last forever, I’m certain And pot the radiantly eye-catching ones In the places so obvious— A mantle, pedestal—always in the corner of my eye I’ll probably put the poisonous Far away from any man Hidden in the depths Still covered yet, concealed to the end— But the simple things in life Are what I hold so fast to me I squeeze the stems and sniff the petals And know now to truly appreciate them

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