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The Poem
I am a flower,
Who stands in the garden.
When people say I'm pretty,
I'm embarrassed - Oh Pardon!
People come to smell me,
I think it's great.
Sometimes dogs do,
That I hate.
I'm out in all weathers,
The rain and the shine.
My petals are like feathers,
The colour of red wine.
My life is not long,
Time goes too quickly.
Sometimes I get trod on,
Sometimes people pick me.
Credits and Copyright
Copyright Richard Pierson.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental
This poem cannot be reproduced in part or whole without express written permission from the author's Estate.
About the Author
Richard Pierson born 1949, died November 2002.
He loved to tinker with words in his spare time, and always wanted his writings to bring a smile.
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