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Forget-Me-Not
There sat a flower,
neglected pretty thing,
for it was not a rose, or
a daisy, no sweet lily, or
carnation, not even a tulip.
It was just a small dash
of color among the green,
never thought worthy of
being remarked upon.
It had no romantic name
to call upon, it was in fact
quite awkward.
It could claim no grand
symbolism or purity, innocence,
or love, and such crave things.
It was but a simply little
flower, but no less appealing,
even if mayhap it does not make
good poetry.
It was but a small flower,
close against the ground,
making it easier to just
step over, but it should not
be so unnoteworthy.
There was plain little
flower that did not dazzle
the eye or move the soul,
but it was not all together
forgot, its very name a plea
to be noticed once in a while.
9:25 AM - 3/2/2006 -
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