I could have fed you flowers
on a Sunday morn
still sleepy with the folds of night,
or gather you softly in the smell of rain,
to bring the petrichor of heavens to your lips,
let you sip the nectar of the Goddess,
a sweet luminescence of moonbeams,
an iridescent palette of the Universe,
a fragrant opulence of dreams.
I could have brought you forests in a bowl,
spoon bites of light, and limbs, and roots, and pungent earth,
Could have brought you the tranquil sea,
or the pastel sky,
or a river dancing, swirling, galloping
down a riverbed of colored stones.
all I ever really wanted,
was to feed you flowers on a Sunday morn.