Sowing chances, picking choices
Do not say I am fickle
For I am not so,
Nor did I promise to stay
I watered the seeds
Of your chance-taking,
Sunned my leaves
And now flowers have bloomed.
They were for you, you know.
I chanced my questions then,
Knowing of others who sought
Bright petals, soft and open
In that secret night-time hour.
Would you take the blossoms,
Nourish and care for them
And pick them at their height?
Or will you forget
What you have sown, let
Strangers steal their beauty?
Time is running out.
I will not linger.
I may pluck them myself
And you will find me gone.
