For every no I said to you,
I take it back and give you
in its place a bouquet of yesses.
The room is full of bouquets,
blossoms on every surface,
a blush riot of pinks and reds and lavenders,
even here inside of me,
a whole field of wildflowers
open and nod.
Was there really so much refusal?
Oh the unfolding perfume,
it dissolves everything I thought I knew.
“A bouquet of yesses…” Very nice. I’m not sure I could have figured out how to spell the plural of yes. And when the wildflowers blossom inside you, even better than yesses.