The Antique

My great grandma had a cactus.
Prickly was its skin.
It grew to heights of greatness.
It could not be kept in.

My grandma took a cutting,
And potted it for me.
I didn’t do much for it
My little poky tree.

Then one day, a blossom
Developed on the top.
I was so excited.
The thrills just wouldn’t stop.

It soon would be a flower
Pretty, big and bright
Its beauty would be fleeting
And gone by morning’s light.

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4 responses to “The Antique

  1. Wonderful poem. You never cease to amaze me with your creativity, Melissa.

  2. Thanks, I love writing these.

  3. Pingback: The Fedge, et al. | a pinch of homestead

  4. Pingback: Double Whammy | a pinch of homestead

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