Delicate flowers

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The most beautiful flowers I’ve ever received
Were presented
Not in a crystal vase, overflowing with greenery,
Not delicately wrapped in tissue paper and sprinkled with baby’s breath,
But tightly held in the fist of a six-year old child.

Do you like them, Mom?
Of course I do. They’re beautiful.

I remember the heartbreak.
My gift to my mother
And her rebuke.
Those aren’t flowers.
They’re weeds.
Take them outside.

A six-year-old heart of dandelion fuzzies,
scattered in an instant,
in a gust of cruelty.

The most beautiful flowers I’ve ever received
Were not orchids
Or roses
Or lillies.

Dandelions, clover, daisies
Are simply stunning
When presented as a gift of love
In the fist of a six-year-old child
On the first day of Spring.

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