Wide Flowers Poem by Randall Barfield

She loves clothes but she’s not a clotheshorse. If you want to make her happy, give her a new sweater or pair of slacks or a blouse. But not just any item. It’s easier to let her choose. She has good taste. No extremes: nothing gaudy yet nothing on the ultra conservative side. Just right. She loves flowers as well. All colors of flowers—some bright colors one day, other colors another day. Wide flowers, round flowers, elongated ones, tiny ones, hothouse ones, wild ones, to name just a few. But you can’t get away with something by giving gifts. Nothing doing. Can’t be bought easily. In the end she loves God and country and her little family. No less than the clothes and flowers, fortunately. She gets misty eyes on each birthday of the Saviour. Wee Him lying there in His swaddling clothes atop the colorless straw in the manger behaving Himself. We’ve all seen the photos and the plays. God, good clothes, and flowers are three of the pleasures she truly loves, among others.That’s one of the reasons I’m still near. A witness for the defense.