Like a flower in early spring,
You come every day with your watering can.
But still stay completely closed off.
I'm not the sunflower you think I am,
I don't even turn towards the sun.
Even though she gives me her unconditional warmth.
I'm that dried up flower that was picked by a child,
A child who didn't know how to take care of it.
And then forgot all about it once they found another to pick.
I laid there on the concrete,
You picked me up and decided to return me to the Earth,
You declare your love to me,
But you don't pick at my petals,
Instead, you give your gingers on them.
Soft and Sweet.
Like a flower in the Spring.
You come every day with your watering can.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of the flower I am.
Perhaps on a warmer Summer day,