III. Wildflower (I’m Sorry)

*This poem is a part III, to a series I have started for events in my life, called To Plant the Memories Like Seeds. Check out the first part, Chain-Link Fence
Check out the fourth part, IV. Pesticides*

He was a wildflower,
free in the meadows
of possibilities.

His petals stood golden,
a marigold in a field full
of daisies.

I’d never been much of a
flower person, but the
oddity drew me in.

I dug under his roots, and
planted him in the safety
of my home.

I whispered my secrets to
him on nights only the wind
would whisper back, and
mistook his silence for
understanding.

I worshipped his beauty on
my windowsill, but failed to
notice the petals drooping
in the dark.

I failed to notice the crisping
leaves turning brown and
curling in on themselves.

The plague was spreading
through his veins, and I was
the chemical that put it there.

I only wish I’d realized sooner,
you can not force a wildflower
to love the same as a potted
plant;

They’re just meant to remain unbound.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

10 thoughts on “III. Wildflower (I’m Sorry)

  1. this is so pretty, I love how its based around having a fascination for something like a wildflower, often overlooked and not seen as something very special to many, but you loved it, and even though your intentions were good, it was harming the plant, it was beautiful, I really really enjoyed reading this, I love the flower analogies ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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