Zinnia

Scattered about the house are bouquets of Zinnias.
I collected them over my birthday weekend. 

I am called Zinnia. 
And Zinnia has always been synonymous with me. 

I grew up. 
A precocious little girl
With bright berry stained cheeks,
bold.

The song my mother warped to fit me,
Or to fit my name, 
Burned into my changing bones. 
She sung it to the tune of Edelweiss 
(We used to watch Sound of Music incessantly).

Zinnia, Zinnia 
Every morning you greet me
bold and bright, sweet the sight.
You look happy to me, to me

Colorful, show, may you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever
Zinnia, Zinnia 
Bless our family forever.

When I was younger
I wanted to be named Edelweiss
I thought the delicate white petals 
Were sophisticated. 

But now, 
I look at all the Zinnias
And all I can think 
Is how beautiful they are. 

I was given the soul of a Zinnia. 
A lovely gift.  

Our house is filled with Zinnias. 
Everywhere, 
Bold and bright. 
A reminder of the power of names.