I am sorry, I am not quite the flower you had thought.
You're mistaken, there's no nectar in my mother's autumn sweater.
If only I had colored petals... Stamen, stem and pistil, too,
the sticky pollen that you're after... Then I could stay here, watching you.
I can't move because you're fragile.
Your tongue is long and black and agile
as it searches through the threads
of brown and yellow, black and red.
If only I had colored petals... Stamen, stem and pistil, too,
the sticky pollen that you're after... Then I could stay here, watching you.
Alas, but I am only human.
You, you only live a couple days.
There's blossoms all around us blooming
so move your wings, get on your way.

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