buds are opening

on the broken trees today.

and i remember when i was younger:

flowers (weeds really) crammed into yoghurt cups,

lovingly given to my neighbors,

with a child's delight

in all things new.

i'm a little older now,

perhaps a bit more mature.

i no longer give yoghurt cups of weeds

as tokens of my love.

and yet,

those same purple weeds (or are they flowers?) represent my child's heart

given without hesitation,

without condition,

simply,

so that others could also smile at their beauty.