Poetry

Poem: Flowers for Laura

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I walked out into the bright morning with Laura.

Her blond curls bouncing in the sunlight

As she tottered and ran down the path from our door;

falling a little along the way

but picking herself up

wiping the grit from her hands

on her blue jeans

and continuing on…

Until the first flower box.

Laura had to stop and smell the flowers.

First the orange ones.

I lifted her carefully,

her middle balanced on my arm,

her nose to the blossoms.

I put her down and continued on our way.

But Laura had to know if the next ones, the yellow ones,

smelled differently.

So again, I lifted her.

I tried to hold her still

while her tiny hands cupped

around the soft petals.

She leaned her head down

And smelled a yellow one.

In my hurry to get on my way,

I might have missed the flowers,

but for her-

Perhaps, I thought,

I, too, should stop and smell the flowers.

Wendy C. Kasten, 1981

All rights reserved.

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