M. Colby Murphy, Professional Writing / English
Little Pink Flower
There’s a meadow outside my house
Where the grass grows tall.
Among the reeds and poplar trees
A little pink flower I saw.
Her petals were pink,
Surrounding a yellow core.
Her leaves were a light brown;
Something I’d never seen before.
Her smell was hypnotic.
I was mesmerized with charm.
And when I left her sweet side,
It would remain on my arm.
Each day I would water her
To keep her petals nice and bright.
I’d lay there in the warm meadow,
And she’d never leave my sight.
But one day when I returned,
She wasn’t waiting for me.
Someone had picked my pink flower.
No. No! How could this be?
I searched for her all day;
Past the ways that I had learned.
But when the night came,
The weather to storm had turned.
I was lost in the woods;
Too dark to find my way.
I curled up in a tight ball,
And in the rain I had to stay.
The next day I fell ill.
I couldn’t walk but a mile.
Doubled over in harsh pain,
I laid choking on bile.
Today I’m still lost.
The taste in my mouth is sour.
I know I’m going to die here.
Alone--without my little pink flower.
No comments:
Post a Comment