The Language of Flowers

photo credit: Mammaoca2008 via photopin cc

Speak to me

in the language of flowers:

sensitive to the nuances

of soil, moisture,

climatic fluctuation
and response.

Look beneath my surface,

for what is there,

waiting to be discovered.

Part the fulsome  greenery,
gently,

and find the bud
in the place

I keep most hidden.

The blooms of our two lives

are heavy-laden,
heads tipped and toppling,

nodding in the breeze.

From underneath

their most precarious weight,

our hands emerge,
as tentative

as leaves.

Speak to me

in the language of flowers,
if you care to understand,

and perhaps,
somehow,
my heart

will find   an answer.

At Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Kerry set us to writing about the language of flowers, a topic that speaks to me this morning. I did recycle the concept of "the blooms of our two lives" from an old 1980's poem, but it is a new write. Not as good as the 1980's version though. Nor am I. Hee hee.