Shel Silverstein

Here’s a poem for a snowy Sunday morning by Shel Silverstein (September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999), American writer, poet, cartoonist, songwriter, and playwright.

Forgotten Language

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?

--Shel Silverstein