Yet Another Poem

Refusal of the Flower

While walking down the road one day

To my planned destination,

An old man stopped me on my,

Proffering slight carnation.

From his earth-filled hands the thin stem reached,

Pink-laced at its end,

A pretty thing, though simple be,

And toward me seemed to bend.

"'Tis a gift," the old man said,

His wise kind eyes aglow,

"Take it, give it proper care,

Much beauty then will grow."

"I've not the time," I did reply,
Remembering my errand present.

"For such small things I tarry not."

Then on my way I went.

Aft time went by, I came upon

A girl in garden fair.

Such lovely blooms I'd never seen,

But the pink one in her hair.

"The carnation was a gift," she said.

"The old man said to grow it.

And so I did, though patience took.

Now look what I've to show it!"

I walked away, my head hung down,

And left her to her joy.

"What better place," I thought aloud,

"For my time to employ."

I'd lost the gift, what could have been,

Thanks to my neglect

Of small carnation that blessings held.

I shall forever regret.