Ashland

I saw a flower.
A perfect red,
the perfect shape.
I wanted to kneel down
and pick it from its home,
to carry it with me.
But I didn’t think it was fair.
It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else
for me to have that one perfect
creation
all to myself.
Instead, I left it alone,
for all others who walk by it
to see,
and write a poem about it, too.



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