Wild Flowers
I sat down to draw the flowers that grow wild
Beside the old broken pipe that waters them
My pencil poised, one of them I closely eyed
The bright blue flower atop the dark green stem.
I sketched and drew till my fingers ached so bad
When I held up my work of art, I was glad
The flower’s beauty was caught forever now
Grateful to the flower I gave it a bow.
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