A Blooming Flower


I like the backseat of a car.

The gentle rocking of the vehicle.

I like the feeling of being cared for,

of drifting off to sleep.


Now you want me to drive,

to the take the wheel and

take it for a spin.

I don’t want to.

I like the back seat.

But only if you insist.


I see me.

I see many of me.

In an hourglass, like grains of sand.

Are they sand?

They fall, sand falls-

and it’s a long way down.

Does it matter which falls first?

They fall so slowly,

but when I look away their speed

is far faster than I thought.


I’ll take the wheel now.

Sit beside me and sleep–


I’ll help you, I’ll drive.

The road is long 

for you and I.

A journey to distant land.

I join my hands together,

my dearest wish

is to catch some sand.