My butterflies won't come out

My butterflies won’t come out

For anything less than lilies

Or sunflowers

Maybe white roses.

They refuse to be lured by laughter

Interest

Even peculiar strangers.

They sit patiently on green stalks

Laughing loudly

Throwing they beautiful heads back

The kind of laughter that makes you nervous

But its totally powerful and intimidating.

There is no humour about it.

I present them with yellow carnations

And the pretty little bugs wont budge.

“Really ”, they snap.

My mind turns around slowly

Embarrassed looking at the yellow common flower in its hands

It’s sad. It’s heart-wrenching.

The mind thinks it’s time

The heart is almost ready

But my butterflies will not budge.

They were so quiet for so long

I was convinced of their death.

They want beauty.

“We could do fine with these tulips,

Petunias but soon we will need more”

I look to the heavens and ask for a white lily.

God smiles and whispers “Not yet”

“I have been weeding Dad”

“I know but not yet”

I turn around half glad

Half disappointed. 

I blow another petunia away.