The Flower

The flower
A flower sits up on it's stem over looking the ocean an sun
It opens up  only a few times a year for it dark for most of the time
As the sun stars to dim  it closes it peddles lowers it head to sleep
For when the sun comes up again  it'll get more of what it needs

Then a thunderous noise comes shouting from the clouds
As the rain begins to fall
The flower knows that its about to  get  hit like a thunderous ball
as it breaks from it's stem
It looks over head while it's being dragged from where it came
As it floats down the stream it can surely see
his  home is nowhere to bee seen

A drip of water runs down it's peddle
while it floats down the meadow
Not knowing where he's going
He must wait till the next morning
For the rain to stop it's course
To dry up or let let him go

For he knows that when it stops
That his peddles will soon fall off
As all he can do is watch
While the sun comes out he see's it for the last time
for when it goes back down
he knows he will be gone
  

This poem is about: 
My community

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