A Spy in My Midst


Flowers greeted me through the door
No card from the sender
Had me mystified and curious
Who was this anonymous presenter?

They were delicately yellow
A fragrant smell wafting off
Standing tall and healthy
But looking fittingly stealthy

I knew not one person
Outside of my small circle
Who would send me such
Love, tenderness of a dove

I chalked it up that I
Must have seen this person before
Maybe they noticed me on the street
Admired the way I shuffled my feet

I pondered who it could be
And what they saw in me
Was this just a friendly gesture
Or were we both meant to seek?

But wait…
Could it be a bomb?
It seemed too peculiar
Just ending up on my table
Staring back at me unfamiliar
Explosively unstable

I cautiously moved around it
Listening for the ticking
Or a blinking red light
That gives you that fearful sick feeling

But nothing such happened
And I guess it was okay
Though I left the house for a while
And came back the next day
Everything was still there
The brilliant bouquet still
Giving me an innocent stare

I guess I should be happy
That there is someone out there
Who has enough nerve to
Send me a big bouquet
But not give their name
Because they secretly spy on me every day

Many names in the phonebook
Many names on Facebook
Many more outside of that
I guess I should have a look

Maybe I’ll see them someday
Maybe I won’t
But believe me this
If that admirer ever comes out
I’m buying them a boat

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Secret Admirers.”

You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?



Some monochrome shots from my world

Cotton Plant, I think Monochrome Mailbox Stone Pit Drive Thru Sign

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Monochromatic.”