- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Growing Daffodils
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Amidst the accouterments of future life,
I fear she will never learn
the fine art of cultivating flowers
and the joy of dirt encrusted fingernails.
Taking her small hands in mine,
we bring the good earth to our noses and inhale.
"This is flower food," I say.
She coos and dimples form on her chubby cheeks.
Placing a daffodil bulb in the soil,
careful not to plant too deep,
I whisper, "This is a baby flower."
Knowing the words, she smiles,
and then babbles, "Bab-beee fower."
Her dark eyes squinting
as sweat drips from her nose,
she struggles to pick up a water can.
Glancing my way for help, she asks, "Wawa?"
Facing toward the rising sun,
a smile turns the corners of my lips,
and a cooling calm pervades the still air.
I wink away a tear.
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