Thursday, July 28, 2016

Flowers from my son.

He's almost 7, and he still brings me flowers.
Every time he sees some that can be picked,
he thinks of his mama.

He loves when I put them in my ponytail, or behind my ear.
I love it too; his love for me on display.

There will come a day when flowers will make him think of another girl;
I pray for her often.

But, for now, he thinks of me, 
and each blossom is a treasure.

No comments:

Post a Comment