i’ve always said i’ll never bear a son or daughter,

or any being in between,

or nothing of the combination;

but i wonder if that’s the key

to replenish the life in me,

to grow my flower;

water her, him, them;

watch her, his, their petals unfold

and bloom in color.

i wonder what complexities would be instilled

in her, him, them

and if she, he, they would grow to embrace

her, his, their swirling patterns,

mismatched hues, her, his, their dark spots.

i wonder if she, he, they would ever feel

the way i’ve always felt;

if she, he, they would grow to be like me;

if she, he, they would become

the person i’ve always known i would become,

and i wonder if she, he, they would handle it better

than i ever could,

than i ever had;

and i wonder most of all

if she, he, they would believe me

when i would say that whatever happens,

whatever she, he, they feel,

think,

do,

become,

they would always be

the most beautiful flower in the world to me.