by Darryl Price

I'd like to grow you a flower. I think
maybe I just will. Right now. Here's as good 
a place as any. Well you'll probably 
never get to see it, but it will be 
there just the same and it will be yours. Kind 
of like these poems that I make if you 
think about it. I do not know what will 
become of them in the end. But they are 
still there. And they are also for you. I  
suppose I could do more. But it wouldn't 

be as real to me as leaving the world 
an impression of your essence spelled out 
in flower petal fonts. Letters are like 
my own brand of petals. They'll all get whipped 
away eventually by the winds 
of time and will disappear unless you 
somehow save them. In your heart. In your mind. 
In your own words. Your own garden. I don't 
know. I just do the gardening I know 
how to do. I love to see things gowing

into their best selves. I find it very 
moving. And for some reason you seem to 
me to be a person who deserves to 
have such a flower planted just for them 
and no one else in this particular 
poetic case. I'm up for the job, so
I'll do it gladly. I don't question the 
deep feeling. It is what it is. I don't 
need to label all the parts of a bird 
to enjoy its company in song. It's 

a good feeling that deserves a flower. 
A nice thing that I'd like to celebrate 
with a little colorful wave of some 
nature made flag. For you. Really, there is 
nothing more to it. I hope someday you're 
walking along and a wind carries a 
certain wonderful fragrance to all your 
senses and you stop and smile. That's all
this is. And if you should remember me
in the process I would be so very glad.  dp