Flo

I met this lovely lady, not many years ago, who
lives in the land of Scotland, now, the land that I love so.
Then I traveled across the wide blue sea
Behind me left the tide;  and married this lady
I grew to love,  I took her as my bride.
Her compassion was for flowers, as I was soon to know,
And when not on her pc.  in a flower bed, she'd go.
So, when not in a game room, you would be sure to find,
her pulling weeds, till her finger bleeds,  pretty flowers on her mi9nd.
Because of her love for flowers--"Flo, flower lover]" is her name
all her friends now call her that;  it will always be the same.
Through all the years of weeds and tears and leaning on her knees
She now complains each time it rains for the weeds, it does appease.
If the flowers grew as fast as the weeds, this would make her smile;
She then might even take a 'break',  and rest her knees a while.
But you are very sure to know, that whenever she can't be found,
On her special mat,  down on her knees, with her fingers in the ground.
She does complain most every day as pain seems to abound;
"Someone has to do it" she says,  but no one can be found.
The pain in her back,  I hear about,  most every single day
Travels down her hips, into her knees, and will not go away.
I think she wants replacements, so that she can be like me
But she will find that they have limits, and can be a misery.
You can't get on your knees no more, those days have gone away,
Or on the carpet with grandkids play;  that was another day.
Whenever a hard wind happens to blow, and topples a pretty flower
She will have it in a water filled vase,  within the very hour.
Her compassion for a flower is evident to see;  whenever they
Need assistance, say, --even more than me'
It's nice to feel you're needed, in most every passing hour
But I hate the thought of being jealous, of a silly flower!
Whenever she gets to heaven and St. Peter checks his chart
And names are called accounting;  what you did to do your part.
If she don't hear, from pollen in ears, makin' everybody sneeze
Someone will point and Hollar Out!, It's the lady with bad knees!

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Chaos128 commented on Flo

08-22-2009

Satch, you wrote a love song. That gruff exterior conceals a gentle soul. Ha ha... I knew it all along!

SEVEN commented on Flo

07-05-2009

Satch, u old softy; Im sure ur her flower too....lol When I grow up I wanna be just like u, still writin poetry about women if I have any...lol.....kudo points for this piece... Keep the pen flowin.....i wanna read more of your work

IBindThee commented on Flo

06-20-2009

Tis a nice story style poem that tells a lovely tale!! A true romantic at heart with wisdom.

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

satch’s Poems (21)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Treehouse 3
Nightmares 1
Promises [ones you can believe] 1
Scratch my Itch 0
The blind Date 5
Awesome' 1
The Lake Walk 2
Loves Choice 3
The Coal Steam Locomotive 1
Mans' Metamorphosis 5
Story'oems 0
Nakedness 2
"Ragged Knees" 5
A Sad Reality 5
Harken 0
Our World Today 2
Miracles 7
"Lonely" 3
Flo 4
"Hey there" 6
"My Poem" 4