Young Adult Poetry posted December 15, 2015


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18th-century London

The Flower Girl

by krys123



Near the town meadow she'd pick her flowers,
 she spent time arranging them for hours.
 When work in the mines was through, she'd sell there,
 and peddle in the streets near the county fair.

 The meager flower girl was known by all,
 in her tattered dress she looked like a doll.

 She befriended a dog as it came close,
 it had spots on its side and wet black nose.

 She called the dog Buddy, he'd keep her warm,
 even on rainy days during a storm.
 She spent her nights in the loft of the church,
 there she felt safe 'cause no one dare would search.

 Each day by the side of the road she'd sell
 her flower bouquet that cast a spell
 on patrons who'd pay, pennies for flowers,
 days were so long and she hungered for hours.

 "My dear flower girl, do you have a rose?"
 People would ask her in her feeble pose.
 The flower girl and dog would stay all day,
 until all of her flowers were sold away.

 All of her fingers were cut from her glove,
 so she could touch each flower with her love.
  On her worn bare feet she wrapped in rags of old,
donned a scarf on her neck that she did mold.

 Many days past and after time, she did tire,
 her dog was now crippled, she burned with fire.
 Then one day as passersby looked on,
 the dog was alone and the girl was gone.



 


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I chose young adult because
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the death happens to us all.
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