If I only had the power, I would turn into a flower
Fuse my legs into a stem and make ‘em green
The stem will have stomata, or at least I think it oughta
The stem will have stomata, or at least I think it oughta
And my leaves will have a healthy, waxy sheen.
After that, I will be aimin’ to turn torso into stamen
Eyes and mouth and ears to petals, one by one
I’ll make pollen with my anthers; I’ll have seeds as black
as panthers
And my petals will be yellow when I’m done.
Then you’ll come along and pick me, take me home and gently
stick me
In a vase I know you keep in your boudoir
You’ll gaze serenely at my beauty, smell my fragrance
(slightly fruity)
And admire how I’m golden like a star.
Then at night I’ll watch you sleeping, and I’ll silently be
weeping
‘Cause I’ll never sleep with you, no not with you
But you won’t detect my mourning upon waking in the morning
‘Cause you’ll see my tears and think they’re only dew.
You will give me water daily, and you’ll play your
ukulele
For me, having read that music’s good for plants
Then you’ll sit and do your quilting, and I’ll watch you,
slowly wilting
Petals shrink, detach and fall—a morbid dance.
After days of petal shedding (which is like a slow
beheading)
You will think that I look bare and past my prime
So you’ll throw me in the bin, and shut the lid (a clash of
tin)
And that’s the end…but we were lovers, for a time.
