Forbidden
Flowers by Ayla Rogers
A
century ago,
When I
was young,
I’d take
the long way
Home
from school—four more blocks
We’re always worth the scent of lilacs,
And the butterflies
In my stomach,
As I snuck to savor
The aroma.
Intoxicating
As anything could be,
For I was only eight
Feet from the gardener,
Shielded by the shrub
And these pale blue eyes.
Gleaming with excitement
As this aged woman
Tells her cheeky tale
And I remember
The way the butterflies
Grew wings and fled my gut,
When I saw that she gave
Me the handle end
Of the pruning shears.
Like a gift from the earth,
Her words sweet nectar
When she bade me—
Take all that I pleased,
For as long as they bloomed.
No comments:
Post a Comment