Only One Flower

I forgive you,

For loving your garden,

But not noticing I was red.

You mulched and watered,

Weeded and trimmed,

Busy, always busy down the stone paths.

I saw it.

But I wanted you to stop,

And look specifically at me.

I had five petals,

Two up, three down,

Twelve maroon polka dots scattered on the scarlet.

I turned my face to follow the sun

Across the sky.

I watched for you to notice that.

My stem was pale spring green.

My leaves, long and streaked,

With forest green and a hint of jade.

I longed for you to stand still,

Smell, touch, notice every detail,

In delight.

But there were twenty other tasks

Still needing care

Throughout your treasured plot.

You hummed and sang,

Briskly moving through each row,

Neat, tidy, trim.

You loved your garden.

You spent all your time

Tending to its every need.

But I was one flower.

I ached for you to stay by me,

Captivated by my shape, my color.

Asking and listening for details,

Of why I watched the sun crossing,

From morning to evening sky.

You only stopped though,

To adjust my growth if I was out of line,

Angled too far over the path.

You cared for your garden.

But I was only,

One flower.