The War Of The Azalea's Poem by Christan Bowen

Grandmother, deep in years
And shed of fears
Did appear
on the lawn
with nothing but slippers
And a bathrobe on

Grabbing the hose
She did propose
To Water
The soil
Where she did toil
and bake in the sun
For God's gift to everyone

Her Azaleas
Were amazed
About all the attention
That she gave
To a flower
fit to adorn
An ancient grave

So she began
Hose in Hand
To water the land
In sight
which was earned
By her husband
A millwright

Since he had passed
The world never asked
If they could perform
Her duty,
All consuming
In Reds and pinks
They are blooming