Archive for September, 2016

There Always Were Flowers

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There was always a flower
pinned on her chest,
flamboyant and bold.
She never looked old.

There was always a twinkle or two
in her laughing eyes,
piercing and blue,
forthright and true.

And always her everyday greeting,
an enveloping hug,
wrapped me around,
so warm and sound.

There were flowers in each room
of her neat little house,
sometimes in old jam jars,
or perhaps in a crystal vase.

Her laughter was like a fountain
bubbling up and out,
cascading all around,
an exuberance of sound.

She would often tie her shoes
with coloured laces,
and dance a little tap,
quite zany and madcap.

She always planted flowers
in painted window boxes,
purples, pinks and reds,
spilling from their beds.

She brightened up her walls
with gaudy paintings,
bought at garage sales,
aligned on picture rails.

Praise was on her lips,
and joy upon her face,
her optimistic style
paraded in her smile.

In later days I brought her flowers
with sweet perfume.
And I, the guest,
would pin one on her chest.


© Copyright Ellen Carr 2016

 

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