Since it’s August, I thought I should write something related to blooming. Well, I relate mostly to “late” blooming lol. I hope you also relate and enjoy this ❤

You once mentioned you were a late bloomer.

Told me that at age 3 your sister could recognise her own name on a large, but you on the other hand could hardly C A from B even at age 4.

I couldn’t help but imagine you in a field of daffodils watching those around you blossom into beautiful flowers.

And you, this agly bud, unmoved by the obsessive drive for early achievement.

I could imagine you as a crawling little baby in no great hurry to walk. So when you did not laugh at my joke, it did not bother me.

I knew you’d get it eventually, maybe 4 hours later alone in your bedroom.

Or a week later at the library, I couldn’t help but imagine how you would suddenly explode in laughter. Shocking yourself or all those around you with the volume of the explosion.

I hoped with all my heart that you’d soon realise that all a late bloomer is, is a dead flower that blossoms as it withers.

And wished I could see your face when you finally learned that even at your worst, you were beautiful.

2 thoughts on “LATEBLOOMER

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