Re: Flora by Sptfyr

As I read, I get two visions.  I see a flower standing in a field with many such flowers, with bees crawling in and out of all but the one flower, spreading pollen to create new life from the old.  The one flower, ignored by all, until at last one comes by and finds that he is too late to gather or spread the pollen dust, for the age of life is fast closing.  As if watching on 2 screens, I see a young girl sitting alone at a dance, eating alone at a restaraunt, sleeping alone at night, longing for that special someone to find her.  As I watch, I wonder what small imperfection is making her be overlooked, or perhaps it's not an imperfection, just an overabunce of girls from which to choose.  I see her as shy and a bit introverted so that she does not attract the attention of the young men who are flitting around from girl to girl in their search for whatever it is they want from life.  I see her flower, waiting to be pollenated, a thing of beauty in need of the touch from a man to be fullfilled.  I watch as it grows from soft, supple, smooth and beautiful to dried and wrinkled, just as the flower withered.  Then finally someone notices, but by now she is old, and the flower useless.  As she passed, the flowers in the field pass and each has been unfullfilled for posterity, and I must say I love your poem.  I would like your permission to print this one.  I won't do it until I have your consent.  Every time I read it, I will think of the flowers I have touched, and wonder if they were indeed fullfilled.

Don