Muted Vibrancy

All flowers are born green.
They turn colors when they start to speak.
In their frustrated contortion they become brilliant.

What are they saying?
What torments and delights them?

Tulips scream so loud they die young.
Sunflowers stand like Buddhist monks
Engaged in happy discourse.
Chrysanthemums chatter long into the snow.

And like us, flowers' voices dry up.
Withered from now dead pleadings.

All flowers are born green.
Some return every year in hues of muted vibrancy
Their voices like colored incense.
What words create their blessed scent?
What secret do they know?

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem