Claire V. Bogdanos

A flower in a garden that’s treated like a weed

And gathers no attention nor garners any heed

It soaks up what is left or can wither in the brush

Or bides its time in silence with ne’er a need to rush.

A hardy sort, of course, that will weather every storm

And seizes on each moment that bides without a form

While there among lost shadows of times we never dreamt

Lie memories forsaken, abandoned or unkempt !