Once I spoke the language of
the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
-Shel Silverstein
Mine is the trees. I speak their language.
ReplyDeleteHave a fabulous day, Ann. Big hug to you and lots of scritches to Simon. ♥♥♥
ReplyDeleteI know I'm a little late and you may not read my reply, but I appreciate you, Sandee. And, I could have guessed you speak the language of trees.
Much love to you,
Ann