the language
of flowers {1}
.
sometimes
life takes
a big old chunk
right out of you
.
sometimes
life traps you
in a rusted out
corner
.
go ahead
bloom anyway
.
.
.
.
the language
4 Responses to “the language
of flowers {1}”
I cherish your comments...
- "Life is a pencil. Write your story."
at home
welcome
This is my penciled-in story,
offered up in bits and pieces,
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pull up a chair, let's sit by
the fire and talk about life.mrs. who?
places to follow me…
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© Copyright 2010-23
All text and photographs are the original work of Kelly LaFleur, unless otherwise noted. All rights reserved. Be kind, don't copy! I can be contacted at mrsmediocrity(at)gmail(dot)comfor my george
June 21st, 2014 at 9:11 am
This is lovely. Thank you!
June 21st, 2014 at 10:13 am
exactly…reminds me of this…
The Rose that Grew from Concrete
by Tupac Shakur
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
June 21st, 2014 at 5:27 pm
bloom because of the chunks. perfect, kelly.
June 23rd, 2014 at 3:12 pm
yes, it does… ~