i dreamt i was a flower once.

you came and laid beside me on a warm spring day
the breeze caused me to sway gently in the field.
i called to you and though your ear was right beside my face
you could not understand our secret language -
the language of nature.

i called to you and though you could not understand my words
you looked at me and smiled.

i dreamt i was a flower once.

you came and had lunch nearby on a hot summer’s afternoon
you had a dog and when i called, she came to me instead.
i was afraid that she’d eat me or dig a hole in my home
but she just sniffed me and went away.

i called to you but only she could understand my words.

i dreamt i was a flower once.

you came again to our field and sat beneath the wise old oak
who tells us bedime stories, as each night the westward sun sets a little earlier.
i called to you and you looked over.
i called to you and you stood up.

i called to you and you plucked me
from between the browning blades of grass.

i died that night but i died fulfilled,
my purple imperceptibly fading
as you brought me to your face
and placed me behind your ear.

and finally,
i am something useful.