Iris

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  • Death

    Iris

    This poem I wrote for my grandmother, I started it a few months before she died for we knew she didn't have much longer-I only finished when we knew her time was coming to an end.

    A seed was planted in the grown
    And with this seed there was no frown
    With the light that shines the flower blooms
    For in the garden there is always room
    Her inner strength showed no defeat
    For she had to wash twenty feet
    Take the time to look
    And you'll see how she wrote her book
    Don't be so troubled
    Let's celebrate
    She's put together the last piece of her puzzle

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    WordSlinger commented on Iris

    03-28-2009

    I like this, a good attitude, :)

    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

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    Iris 1
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    Change 0
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