Let’s name her Fern, my father said but Mother cried, oh, no!
She’d dreamt of grass so lush and green, that name they must let go
With roots dug deep in Irish soil, I’d need a Gaelic name
And since my blood ran shamrock green, Kelly I became
Late at night, when slumber falls, I dream of misty isles
Of saint-chased snakes and emerald dust, fairies on fence stiles.
When my dreams run especially deep, I see sage ferns of lace
Ancient lace, silvery ferns, swamps o’er all the place
Live with us, swamp with us, flourish in our shade
I was so tempted by their call, I very nearly stayed
But when I learned they had no seed, I knew I had to wake
Lovely as the name is, being Fern was a mistake.
With no seed, as you can see, a fern can never flower
and I
refuse
to surrender
my potential
for blossoming