today i gathered flowers

and lined the front edge of a hammock with them.

as they fluttered in the breeze with every sway,

i wondered

what if flowers really do want to be picked

and we’re not hurting them or stealing beauty?

what if they compete in becoming more beautiful

because they each hope for

the ultimate validation:

being the chosen one.


2 thoughts on “chosen

  1. i love this poem! i am often choosing one flower or another…some may call it “stealing” since i choose them from the yards that i find while walking and scouting :), but they are all screaming at me: “choose me, roro! choose me!” how can i resist 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s