by Sherry Wheet

Created on: July 14, 2008

Flowers in Spring

It all started when she was very small.
Probably, around two.
When the dandelions came up in the yard;
She would bring me a few.

I'll never forget as she would hand them to me;
With a proud look and a gleam in her eye.
"I got you something." "These are for you."
"I can get you more, if I try."

She would say I was the best mom in the world.
That she loved me with all her heart.

She would put her small arms around me;
It would pierce my heart like a dart.

I would say, "I love you, too, Sweetie;
"I thank you so much, My Dear."
"How thoughtful you are to have picked them for me."
"They have brought me so much cheer."

I would kiss her on the forehead;
Hug and squeeze her tight.
Then turn to the cabinet to find;
Something that the flowers would fit, just right.

It was, usually, nothing fancy;
Something with water, I could fill.
A small cup would usually do the trick.
Then was placed on the window sill.

They stayed there week after week,
Until they became completely dry.
We always hated to throw them out;
So, of course, they would always die.

Eventually, we would have to take them;
And pour them out back in the yard.
I couldn't stand to see them go,
This part was very hard.

Then with that same sweet smile,
As she had done before.
Was my blessed Angel,
Standing at the door.

It would only take a glance,
Until I knew without a doubt
She had a handful of love,
So graciously, ready to hand out.

Then we would repeat,
All the steps we had done before.
Until fall and winter would arrive;
And she could not pick them anymore.

This has gone on for years now;
She is getting older everyday.
I know the time will come;
When things won't be this way.

She'll soon be all grown up,
Graduated, married, and gone.
Probably, with a kid or two,
Of her very own.

There will be no children left at home,
That would make my heart daily sing,
But, warm weather would bring the memory;
Of flowers in spring.

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