Pre School - Poem by William Coyne

Her fingers wearing see through skin
tightly winding thinning bone,
lightly turned browning, brittle pages
showing lovely colored petals
stored from what seemed ages ago.

I, so young, beside her sitting,
both ears and eyes full open wide,
eagerly listened to every story
she told about the flowers in the book,
from every heart she ever took.

Her voice was frail, soft and sweet,
she spoke as almost in a trance
about the dandelion given by
her very first love in first grade
with whom she played and danced.

Up through the grades to her now present age,
the stories poured into my little ears,
as she handed me a petal now and then
to feel how soft they were still,
and how nicely they felt in my hand.

So on and so on with each new page,
through her life's joys and travails.
The final tale told, she whispered to me,
'Remember that boys are sometimes more
than snakes and snails and puppy dog tails.'