Breakfast with a side of grace, please
These things would have blackened
Like little drops of blood
Sprinkled in a flowerpot.
Becoming festering blisters
Across a life already too beautiful.
Because you explained to me, gently,
In the most gracious way you could.
And I want to hear “Not yet”
And I cradle this idea in deep satisfaction.
As if something was won.
Because I know how to play it well.
Maybe I should think “never”
And hold this idea.
Because I do not understand
The full beauty of this life.
Not now. Not yet. Maybe never.
And in all of this,
I wandered upon something that I lost a long time ago.
Something forgotten almost, but still hoped for.
A friend tells me this is success.
And across a thousand years this is what I wanted.
This is what was forgotten.
Just that chance to be true.
No more than that.
Just that chance to be beautiful.
To shine on those flowers
In the only way I knew.
Yes that’s what I hoped for.
Those simple dreams buried deep in the flower pot.
The flowers there, now blooming so bright,
As the flowers gently sway in the wind,
How was I to know
That I would walk away fulfilled?