Flowers (poem)

Flowers
8 January 2017

It was never quite so clear to me
as it was to
the confident sprout, sticking its head
out of the dirt
the confident bud, collecting what it needs
through the dirt
the confident flower, showing its colours
over the dirt, sharing its seeds
which each holds only the secret
of the flower
and not of the dirt.

I never could quite see
where the author's message ended
and the message of the author began
and where the author ended
and the message for me began
and where the message for me ended
and my own message started to speak.

a dirt of many flowers
each forgotten, each unique.