Flower

I’ll pluck a flower for you, mummy –
Won’t you wish I’ll remain like this forever?

Like a morning bird that chirps its song
Innocently and sweetly,
And you would reach out and pat it
If it didn’t fly away
So quickly.

Or a butterfly,
Swirling and whirling in the garden,
With wings that flutter so freely and naturally,
As if mid-air was its home-ground.
And I’ll exclaim, “Flutter by, butterfly!”
Hoping it’ll rest on my clumsy hands.

I’ll pluck a flower for you, mummy –
Of bright and brilliant petals that strew their invisible fragrant fumes.
How unlike me; I never want to bloom.