By: Nyokabi Ng’ang’a

Photo Courtesy:

That BUDDING flower

That knows time

Time in a season

The season of every month,


That budding flower

That makes me an adult

An adult of days

With the days of frays;


Pain is elementary

When I bud as a flower

My emotions rage

My moods change;


I am a budding flower

Who cannot be understood by all

Aside from the ones who fall

For the budding season of our flowers;


I am a budding flower,

Within the process I feel pain

Out of the process I feel sane;


I am a budding flower…who cannot be understood by all.

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