dear mother,

i wanted to buy you flowers today,

i was going to drive to an actual flower shop, not walmart,

i was going to pick either the prettiest flower or

tulips. red and yellow ones. 

do you remember our old house? tulips grew outside

in the spring they bloomed

and then the ones that didn't die by winter got filled with snow

like fancy organic cups. 

i used to pick tulips, with dirt still clinging to the stems and leaves,

and give them to you. i don't remember what you did with them.

i was 7, 8, 9 then. i'm 18 now and i haven't gotten you flowers in years.

you still pack my lunches in the morning like you've done since preschool,

even though i'm in college now. the lunches haven't changed, either.

a honey bun or some other little debbie snack. pouch juice. quick snacks.

i'm getting off topic,

i was going to get you flowers, but the drive home from college is an hour already

whenever i'm more than five minutes late, you worry

so i didn't buy you flowers

i came home and i helped you understand how google docs worked instead.

you didn't raise me to be materialistic when it came to love,

flowers are nice, gold jewelry is better,

but just being here is enough, isn't it

This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 


Robert Bloom

I love how your language fits with the character.  Did you do everything in lowercase on purpose- as in to convey how this person will always be his mother's child?

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