Her Flowering Thoughts

     "One, two, three..."
     The small girl counted the poppies in the vast field as she was dreaming of her future.  As she continued to pick the flowers and carefully position them in the bouquet she gently held in her left hand.  Even though she was standing alone in the sea of red flowers and wheat colored grass, she continued to express her feelings aloud because she knew, even at her young age, that it does not matter what others think. 
     The petite, toe head girl with her bangs pulled back stood quaintly wearing a green and white striped summer dress.  This young girl had older siblings and as she contently examined each flower extensively, she could imagined being older.  The only moment she could envision was when she could ride her bike down the road by herself, without training wheels, just like her sisters. 
     "I want to grow up and be a doctor that helps babies."  She said as she delicately chose another flower to add to the bunch she was composing.
     "I wish I could just be all grown up right now."  Quietly mumbling to herself in a dejected tone. 
     "Grown ups can do and buy everything they want.  Mommy always tells me no when I want something, but she is always buying things!  It's not fair."
     As she continued to think of all the reasons she wanted to grow up, she began to think about becoming a pediatrician one day.  Just like before, she treated the flowers extremely delicately, but as she conceptualized her future, she began to examine each one elaborately.  She handled each blossom as the babies she hoped to one day deliver. 
     "When I'm a big girl, I'm going to get to be around babies EVERY DAY!" 
     She fantasized about those days, and as she did so, she started to lay each individual poppy on the ground and forming a cradle around it.  She treated the flowers gently and as though they were all her future patients.
     "Shh, baby, it will be okay," she faintly mumbled and tenderly patted her patient as she moved on to the next crib she was forming.  She proceeded to form more and more beds for all of her 'babies'. 
     Once she had completed her task, she went back to where she had stared at her first 'crib'.  She carefully gathered the flowers, one-by-one, to take back to her mother who would be patiently waiting on the porch where she had been when her youngest daughter had left to frolic through fields of flowers.

Why The String?...

The pink spool of yarny string
Can be useful for many different things.

It may seem to be nonfunctional,
But it may help to make a contraption quite punctual.

The end of the string is frayed,
That can be quickly cut off and changed.

There are parts of it that are tangled.
A small child could have caused it to become mangled.

It seems that playing in a sandbox is an understandable assumption.
Maybe it got wedged at a junction.

I'm not too sure why it smells like soap...
That kiddo dropped it in the sink, I hope.

Looking at this uninteresting object
Can really get your brain thinking of a project.

It could simply be making crafts,
Or even braiding ropes for rafts.

Who ever knew string could have so many uses?
You could tie a water bottle around your neck with it to hold your juices.

People always unravel more than they need.
Maybe they thought it would help them take the lead

In one of the competitions they partake.
It can make learning to tie a knot a piece of cake.

I had absolutely no idea this string was so handy,
Even though it may be a little sandy.