A ( somewhat ) Written Apology To The Gumamela

Pinkish-lavender
Beautiful around,
With yellow pollen-pistil
Showering the ground.

Sweet-smelling
Loveliness.
How should you have encountered
Such vile, innocent destruction?

I was only 4
When I decided
That I would grind your bones,
And pound your hapless brethren along with you.

4,
when I decided that you would
be crushed and turned into a pulpy
Sticky substance.

When I trod on you with my foot,
Flattened you on the soil,
to get you good and gooey enough
so I could peel you off and mash you more.

Yet you forgave me
with your dying breath,
By gasping dew rainbows
for me to blow.