Forgotten Language, by Shel Silverstein

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers...
How did it go?
How did it go?

 

How often do you speak to flowers? Have you listened to the crickets lately? As children there was once a time we understood things our adult brains cannot comprehend without child-like innocence. I, for one, do not ever wish to forget the language of the flowers and smile at the sun peering through my window in the morning. That is all.