The pansies,
they glare at me. They are not charming; they glare and then squint as though
trying to decipher me. Their little yellow mouths whirring away with intent,
the leader speaks loudly, he doesn’t want me in their view.
Because here
I am admiring their view. Laughing to myself as they try to makes
riddles of their lives, make complex their measures when they are simply
precious flowers avoiding the blights. Though they are temperamental, they are
hardy, and this is why they have survived in my overgrown, sprawling garden.
Now it’s as
though they’re blowing me raspberry kisses, their yellows spreading into a
widened “O” that is utterly reminiscent of those bubble gum-blowing days when
as a child I would pop and pop that piece all afternoon, if not all day.
Some pansies start to sink, they’re beginning to bow, to the true master of their garden, yes, it is I, a masterful gardener, their actual Leader, and with due respect they nod their heads, while their nominated pansy leader forcefully rises his head himself. He is too proud to bow, he is too vain to find in himself fault, and the truth of the matter is that he will never deliver his power to anyone other than himself.
The rest of
the pansies squint at me in my glowing light, humbling knowing that as the one
who tends to them, they must respectfully be in a mode of both gratefulness and
gracious delight.
Photo by Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well
Unlike a
leopard that will never change its spots, this girl has shed her spotted print.
She has altered her life for the better, she has cast aside those undesirable
traits which lurked within. She is different now, careful, yet carefree, light
as a feather. Her heart and mind are filled with gladness, there is nothing to
cause her to be grumbled and sour nor overly candid.
Unlike that
leopard which will forever hold its spots, she has deterred herself from
behaviours that are unnecessary, unnoteworthy, and which had not aided her plight,
nor changed her for the better. Now she is wholesome in goodness, rested in the
night and brightened in the day. There is little she yearns for, because she has
them provided for her and by her in many and most ways.
In her world she searches for moments of true happiness, sparkles in her eyes, plucked from the skies by fingertips eager for more twinkling light, and she carries these sparks inside of her, releases them inside her billowing heart, large enough and large enough it becomes, for her world which was often torn apart.
Now she holds so many sparkling love-bugs, brightness inside her chest, that she smiles to herself, secretively loving the fact that she has her own collection, to keep them at their best. Where she will nurture their glistening hopeful selves, reminding her to cherish everything tiny and immaculate, whether minute or precious within her world, and live with the understanding that some human leopards can shed their prints even at the worst of times.
After all, it’s only a pattern, and a habit can be formed in so many days, how easy enough it has been to displace her negative traits, and place herself within a desirable loving stage.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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