On Down the Hill


Walking on the gully bank when May’s
Tall greening grass surrendered to my pace
Without complaint, I saw a frail bouquet,
Whose snowy petals begged a simple vase.

I clutched it tightly in my hand and went
To show it off to Mother, asking for
A drinking glass, a nose to test the scent,
A mouth to smile, and eyes to help adore.

But soon it fainted on the window sill –
Homesick for its friends on down the hill.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s