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I cut you a flower
My favorite, because
I don’t know yours
And I was coming around
But there was this storm
The one, the one
Everyone was waiting for.
I palmed it and wrapped it
In my soggy paper news
And when that failed, used
My cardigan, the pills
Of wool hunkering in the deluge.
By your corner, in my thumb
And finger there remained
A simple stem, I
Had bled a lot of petals
Watched them tumble,
Glowing, so vivid
Along the drains.
So I wonder
What you’d make of me
Stood at your door, holding a stick.
Can you think of something clever, please
Or quickly grab a vase, at least?
