THE FLOWER


The brown grass nearly as tall as she
To hide from the world she sat looking down
A flower dark purple she picked
The she spun the flower in her fingers

Round and round, magic to her eyes
She was all of five
A breeze subtle and cool on her face
A petal fell from the flower, she did not frown

Leaping to her feet
The flower held out before her
She danced, hopping with joy
The sun glistening off her eyes

Across the hillside
Bouncing from foot to foot
Such joy she knew everyday
Life beginning with each breath

A kiss as she takes the flower to her lips
Then the scent fills her senses
Smile and more smiles of delight
Purple, how she loves purple

Michael V Hechtman Copyright 2000