Flower Pot

A minimal watercolor flower patch

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I've had three superpowers in my thirty something years,

special quirks about me that weren't shared by my peers.

When I was a little kid, it sounds goofy I know,

but when I wiggled my brain right, I swear the wind would blow.

I thought it was a fluke, I tried not to believe it,

but every time I tested it my friends could all perceive it.

I'd test it on the stillest days, when nothing cared to move,

yet a breeze would shake some leaves just enough to prove it.

Rustling trees are fun for show, but don't have many uses

so as I got older, I stopped having many excuses

to show off this skill of mine and mostly I forgot,

until a buddy in college said he used to laugh a lot

at a kid in his hometown who claimed to move the wind,

silently I tried it for myself and it's never worked again.

Maybe I traded in the wind for some fire inside,

because it seems like me and cold just don't collide.

Honestly, looking back, I don't quite remember

when I switched to wearing shorts from December to December,

I've taken shirts off in the snow because I get too hot,

and I'll show skin to rain without a second thought.

I was cool with this arrangement, until quite recently

when a change in medication and improvement in the decency

of food that I ate left me shedding lots of weight,

and while I'm looking a bit better, it's not all great,

now my shorts don't fit, and here's a dirty trick

the cold can grab a hold now that I'm a little less thick.

I went to pick some chicken from the grocery store freezer

and the coldest drumsticks in the place were below my knees.

I mean jeez, is this what you've all been complaining about?

If cold can sting like this, I'd rather do without.


Too corny for you so far? Fine, here's the real cheese:

I don't lose sight of loving forests in the shadow of ugly trees.

What I mean is that my heart doesn't know how to quit

when the path takes a dip or a dive off a cliff.

Unconditional compassion means there's nothing you can do

that convinces me to reconsider caring about you.

You can call it love, you can call it being friends,

you don't have to call it anything, but it really never ends.

Now, you might be worrying about this verse and it's conclusion,

so let me set the record straight, so there is no confusion:

there is no man, no clock, no God, and no fate to be revealed

that will sap me of this power, I simply refuse to yield.

I practice my power constantly so it doesn't slip away

and you can snatch it from my smile on my burial day.

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Art and Writing: 
Yamen
Fractal rendered with Fractorium.