POEM

 

 

A CHILD PICKS WILDFLOWERS ALONG THE WAY.

THE FLOWERS PICKED DIRECT MY PATH.

I STAND IN THE SUN.

HOLDING THE FLOWERS IN MY HANDS.

I BEGIN BREAKING THEM INTO GROUPS.

ARRANGING AND ORGANIZING INTO STACKS.

BY COLOR.

BY NAME.

SOME I DO NOT KNOW...

 

~ MEGAN NELSON