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Rated: E · Fiction · Biographical · #2199218
A poem I wrote about my Mother’s rose garden on 7-28-08.

Roses, roses all around,
Some are even growing on the wildflower dirt mound.
They grow but don’t make a sound.
Some seeds were lost but some were found.
My Mother just picked a whole pound!

The roses are red, yellow, white and pink.
Well, what do you think?
I love them that’s what I think.
None of them ever stink!
Did one of them just wink?

Did my Mother pick them for a king?
She then chose to merrily sing.
But then, I think I heard the phone ring.
She put them down near her wedding ring.
The sound came from a bicycle bells ding.

Was the wink from the pink rose garden elf?
His name should be Zelf.
And I named him all by myself!
Or should he be named Relf?
I asked him and he loves to be called Jelf.

When my Mother came back, she put them in a large glass vase.
It looks so pretty with some white lace,
And she put it on a purple base.
She was fast like in a race!
She then smiled and put them near her face.

We’re the roses for me?
I hope at least I can see!
She then made some tea.
They weren’t for me,
But we’re for our neighbor, Dee!

I then felt a little sad,
And maybe even a bit mad,
But Dee came over to me and said, “Here you go lad,”
Then I was so happy and glad!

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199218