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Wildflowers
by
Siobhán Barry-Bratcher


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In the mornings when he passed my house
He helped himself to the wildflowers
I planted out front. 
My neighbor would yell at him
And, one day, when I caught him in the act
He looked straight ahead and kept walking
While he gripped the stolen bouquet behind his back 
In a tight fist, like any little kid would.
But he was an old man
And he only picked one kind of flower.
To quell my anger 
I imagined he had a wife
Who couldn't leave the house
And those flowers 
Were the only bright spot in her day
Until, one evening
I saw he was the one
Who always sprinkled a handful of rice on the curb
To feed the birds.
After that, I didn't mind
That he shared my flowers.


© by Siobhán Barry-Bratcher
Used with the author's permission.

 


Siobhan Barry-Bratcher is a writer and musician whose work has appeared in various print and online publications. In addition to poetry, she writes short stories, plays, creative nonfiction, reality show recaps, and research articles. Two of Siobhan's short stories, "Pigtown Two-Step" and "World Without End," received Honorable Mention in contests sponsored by the literary journal Glimmer Train. She was also selected as a semi-finalist for her short story, "World Without End," in the 2018 ScreenCraft Cinematic Short Story Competition. Siobhan currently writes on medium.com and is also hard at work writing episodes for her podcast, “Grandma’s Been There,” which will launch in the fall of 2024.

    

 

 


Post New Comment:
Michael:
I like the wisdom displayed in this poem as simple things get elevated to the status of the "profound."
Posted 05/03/2017 10:58 AM
Larry Schug:
Flowers traded for birds, a good poem for free. A good deal all around.
Posted 05/03/2017 08:40 AM
KevinArnold:
Ah some artistic ambiguity, especially with the title.
Posted 05/03/2017 03:12 AM


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