When I was little, I picked some flowers From the back yard. Sour grass. Weeds, really- But I liked the small Yellow blossoms. I brought them inside And mother put them In a blue vase. That night, the blossoms Closed. And I cried, Afraid they died. Don't worry, Julie, The flowers will bloom In the morning. And they did. What I didn't know, Until much older: The truth that hides Behind that memory, That the flowers were Already dead. They only bloomed for A few brief days to Keep me happy. An unsuspecting Moment's sacrifice To make me smile. What I didn't learn Until middle age: The bigger truth, That hides underneath, That all of us are Already dead. We only live for A few brief years to Make each other happy. Now I seem to sense A much bigger truth, Behind that one... Is there a bigger Truth? I don't know. The flowers didn't Know either.