I was just as surprised.
You asked me how I knew and I told you I didn’t but the roots did.
I finally said it, screamed it,
“I’m pink! I’m pink!”
Not quite white, not as bright,
But I’m pink! I’m pink!
And then you said you think
That I was only this way because of who I grew around,
But that’s only because the seeds fall in the same place.
We’re just planted like this.
A flower doesn’t choose its color,
Nor when it’ll be plucked or pollinated,
But it does know what it wants,
And I don’t want a bee.
I want to be plucked and put in a vase
Where I can be beautiful and grow old and wilt and shrivel and die in a happy home
And that’s why I know that someday soon, someday near,
Someone will find me and pick me from the earth
And live with me how I want to live.
He’ll think I’m beautiful.
Someday soon, someday near,
Someone will find me and pluck me from the ground,
And end the longest winter.
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