One, two, three, four, five...
Counted out the little girl,
Her face alit, shining,
Radiant - like a pristine pearl.
The five petals, she gently stroked,
With fingers nimble and delicate,
The reds of the petals blending,
With nails coloured a similar shade.
Suddenly, the lovely face clouded,
"Such a pretty flower, separated from the tree,"
And just as sudden, with a smile,
"Perhaps it's here, just for me?"
The shoeflower, she picked up from the earth,
And tucked it in, in her plait,
Her sunshine smile warming the heart,
On a cold, chilly winter day.