A pretty flower,
You watch it bloom.
Through the sun and rain,
It won't fade soon.
The stem grows,
The leaves spread.
It seems this flower,
May never be dead.
So many days,
Come and go.
It survives the harshness,
Of a cold winter snow.
This flower stands,
Tall and free.
A great reminder,
Of you and me.
-Felicity Finney