A Poem: flowers

She picked the flowers in the spring,
some yellow, blue and gold,
she took them up in a bouquet,
as much as she could hold.

She carried them in her small hands,
and brought them home with her,
and gave one to her tabby cat,
as she did sing a purr.

She went into the house that day,
and gave one to the fish,
she brought one to the dog that slept,
which she thought he might wish.

Into her room she brought them next,
and gave some to her dolls,
and put some on the picture frames,
that hung upon her walls.

She went into her brother’s room,
and hid one in a book,
she wasn’t sure he’d want her to,
but didn’t think he’d look.

She skipped around and out the hall,
and went out the back door,
and as she went she dropped some down,
to cover the wood floor.

Out in the yard she saw her dad,
and she gave five to him,
for she did think that he was best,
and this was not a whim.

She then went out and to the grove,
to where the shade was deep,
and put the rest upon the grave,
right where her mom did sleep.

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