Forget-Me-Not Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

They were simple daisies,
picked in the Park at Dawn.
Not up to standard, though,
traditionally, the expectation
had always been to shop
for more appropriate ones,
at the local family florist,
the trademark being cost,
and plastic, as if thinly veiled.

But she was poor beyond belief.
the town had given her the coffin,
the preacher had supplied
a long-retired gown, all black.

Her only son had cabled from America,
that he was indisposed for this occasion,
that time, without a doubt, was money
and that the world would still keep turning.

She stayed a while after the service
was over and the crowd of two had left.
And, when she was alone with him
she placed, among the happy daisies,

a single flower of a brilliant blue,
which he had grown and nurtured
in their small garden, near the rhubarb.
It was a flower, simply called Forget-Me-Not.