Love me, Love me not
I count —she loves me, she loves me not,
but the pedals are always an even lot.
then i always pick another
hoping this one comes out odd.
i count —
the times she says she loves me
i count the times she shows
they never seem to add up equal,
how much does a flower know?
a garden row of flowers —
i picked my very last one,
i carefully plucked at its pedals
in slow tender pulls
not letting any get away
without my touch.
then ignoringly i tossed
that naked stem aside,
what can a flower really know inside?
because, again they were even
and i just went on thinkin’
of what a silly way to face
the truth, i knew within.
This Poems Story
Trying to figure out if she loves me. So i resort to the old idiom of \\\"she loves me, she loves me not\\\" as petals are plucked off a flower. Depending how it ends, is supposed to be the answer. But after it keeps coming up \\\"loves me not\\\" i question myself, but in reality i already knew that.
Public Collections Containing This Poem
Other Poems By This Author
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My first Real Kiss*
PoetRoss Mitchell
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Lets go feed the PIGEONS
PoetRoss Mitchell
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