Bouquet

Between my ribs and heart, I keep

A flower-press of smiles.

I gather them from chapels, parks,

Museums, and shopping aisles.

Some spread with dandelion speed,

While some are hard to find.

But every bloom is treasured in

The garden of my mind.

That sweet-pea flash of toothless glee

In baby’s pure delight.

That bluebell sway of mother’s lips,

A whisper of “good night.”

That lily curl of shyest hope

On his first day at school.

That tulip gleam of sly surprise

When she can bend a rule.

That poppy flush of pleasure as

They take their partner’s hand.

That aster wink of strangers who

Will hear and understand.

That holly shine of shared relief

Replacing bitter tears.

That cherry-blossom burst of joy

As friends meet after years.

These sprouts and sprigs and petals of

The lives I see each day,

Remind me that my own small seeds

Can flourish, come what may.