My little blue flower, growing in the dirt,
I like help it grow, keep it from getting hurt.
Brave little blue flower, bracing for the dusk
I’ll be back tomorrow with a water husk.
Poor little blue flower, among a field of weeds
Got to keep it healthy, its my hope and creed.
Helpless little blue flower, struggling in the night
Not sure it will make it, to the next day’s light.
Poor shriveled blue flower, dying ‘mongst the thorns
Why can’t I help it? Am I just to mourn?
Miss my little blue flower, more than you will know
Asked Death to bring it back, all Death said was no.
Forgive me little flower, I did more harm than good
Will I see you grow again, among the thorny wood?
Studio CreatiV: The Writings, poetry and musing of an Angry Man 