Flower Girl

Vivid eyes, a glowing face.

Gentle hands, a warm embrace.

Watching how the flowers grow.

Watching how the flowers grow.

 

In the dark, she’s her own light.

The smoke will never cloud her sight.

Watching how the river flows.

Watching spring as winter goes.

 

For her, the world will not slow down.

So she takes in all the scenes and sounds.

She watches how the world goes round,

She’s always holding her own ground.

 

Though sirens blare, and peace succumbs,

There’s a flower blooming in the slums.

A smile amid the dark shines like the moon.

It reflects the sun into the night,

And they say there’s not a better sight,

Than a reminder that sunrise will be here soon.

 

Kicking trash strewn on the street,

Standing tall in the summer heat,

Watching how the city glows.

Watching how the city glows.

 

It’s a noisy town, but she’s become attuned,

It’s still the place her garden bloomed,

Watching how the people go.

Watching all their highs and lows.

 

She know the terrors and the threats,

But that hasn’t seemed to stop her yet.

Grins line the people that she’s met,

That cheerful face lets them forget,

 

That sirens blare, and peace succumbs,

‘Cause there’s a flower blooming in the slums.

A smile amid the dark shines like the moon.

It reflects the sun into the night,

And they say there’s not a better sight,

Than a reminder that sunrise will be here soon.

 

A sprout that’s pushed herself through gravel,

Leaving a trail of petals as she travels,

She walks through the crowd without hesitation,

No one knows how she keeps her dedication.

 

She’s there wherever people laugh,

Spreading joy on their behalf.

Watching how it lightly snows,

Watching how it lightly snows.

 

Should she hear a child cry,

She’ll be there with a lullaby.

Watching as the ground unfroze.

Watching for the spring’s first rose,

 

The smog’s replaced with lilac smells,

The gray’s dotted with asphodels,

The concrete’s colored with pastels,

Who knows what stories she will tell?

 

Sirens blare, and peace succumbs,

But there’s a flower blooming in the slums.

A smile amid the dark shines like the moon.

It reflects the sun into the night,

And they say there’s not a better sight,

Than a reminder that sunrise will be here soon.

She’s the reminder that sunrise will be here soon.

 

Vivid eyes, a glowing face.

Gentle hands, a warm embrace.

Go back to where the flowers grow.

Back to where the flowers grow.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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