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

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

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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