To want to wilt

I often dream of life as a flower
Being planted just to grow;
Living from spring's start to its end
Three seasons I'd never know

From seed to soil I would return
And never think it wrong
I'd expect nothing from having bloomed
And accept brevity as life's long

But I am not a daisy, rose
Or a Texas Bluebonnet
So I will suffer life's end-
Know my existence and not want it

And I am not a daffodil.
My flesh not petal, but skin
Springtime's destiny is not mine
I'll bloom not, nor from within