The Violet Flower
The violet flower lays discarded
dirty in the road it blows.
It stops! Endangered, faded, lonely
from the stones in tidy rows.
The child with hazel eyes sees treasure.
Don't run! I'll fetch, I follow through.
"It's beautiful and not that dirty",
she asks "is it violet or is it blue?"
With curious eyes she asks of me
"Why are there rows and rows of stones?"
I struggle to explain to her
with simple words and gentle tones.
She nods her head in satisfaction
I'll take it home, it'll last forever
I'll plant it in my garden pot
It is my special flower treasure
So home we came to plant her flower
blown from an anonymous grave.
Now planted in her little garden
the special bloom she had to save.