Late Bloomers

The tulips bloomed in August,
out of time, mixed up somehow,
unaware, and uncaring
that they were late bloomers,

content to know their colors were welcome
and their perfume just as sweet
as if they had arrived in May.

About this poem

In some parts of my life, I consider myself a late bloomer. And that’s OK. I don’t feel like it means I was slow. It just didn’t come in the time I expected.

Tom