The Orchid



Not all flowers grab my attention like the orchid.

Their purples, whites, and yellows; all so innocent.

They remind me of my grandfather’s bratty smile.

It takes me back to when I was a child.


I was the first of his grandchildren.

All eight of us would climb all over him.

When he wasn’t playing with us,

he was in his garden, enjoying some solace.


I’d always find him there when we arrived at his home.

It never failed, there he was happy being alone.

He took special care of one particular plant.

It was an orchid, embraced in his calloused hand.


They make your grandma happy.”, he told me.

If I miss a day, she’ll be really angry.

 You know, it grows like grandma and you.

 The color’s not right, it should be blue.


“Blue? Why blue?”, I asked.

Blue like the ocean, so vast.

 Blue like the stars at night.

 Blue like the rain when you squint just right.”


When I left, I never saw him again.

I still picture him in his garden.

Months turned to decades

until I heard of his death that day.

I mourned and scorned in my hands,

thinking of him as a dead plant.


Since 2014, I used to ignore those flowers.

They reminded me of our times and those countless hours.

At the store, just passing through,

there it sat, an orchid of blue.

I had to stop because it was him!

The flower had the same grin!


He was right, all those years back.

It was blue like the ocean, so vast.

It was blue like the stars at night,

But I still can’t see it in the rain, I can’t squint right.


Touching the colors in my hand,

made me remember this man.

“I found it grandpa! It’s really true!

There’s an orchid, just like you.”



Nature Unclassified Poetry

John Reyes View All →

"A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure." ~Charlie Chaplin

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