They seem so silent
No advice do they give
No words of consolation
Or apology
We put the words
That we desire
Of praise, of regret
In their soft, pleated folds
They say, “Ah, yes. Of course you are appreciated.
Of course you are loved.
Not just by the one who gave you the flowers
But by the One who made them for you.”
Posted in: Poetic Reflections
Posted on April 22, 2011
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