[Mister Chris]

There was a flower beside her as she opened her eyes.
Each time it happened it was a wonderful surprise.
Midst the pain and anticipation of treatments to come,
That small breath of freshness with warmth from the sun.
So thoughtful and precious yet simple its bloom,
Poured out its beauty, all round the room.
During the long night when sleep avoided its call,
Someone had delivered it, this choice gift so small.
Yes someone so thoughtful popped in through the night,
Left the gift from nature a single flower so bright.
As light came slowly through blinds all drawn close.
There it was again, but how? Nobody knows.
Each morning it happened she never knew who
Had felt for her loneliness, knew her heart break too.
The flower gave pleasure and a meaning to live,
But her health now fast dimming, she'd nothing to give.
As days passed by she could no longer speak.
The flower was there, each day, each week.
Her fight for life fading, the sickness came fast;
The flowers kept coming, how long could it last?
Did she notice these tokens of love and good will?
When she lay on her bed so quiet and still.
The nurses and doctors knew her time had now run.
Blinds remained closed yet a fresh flower had come.
Very early that morning as her life drifted away.
The kind soul left a token, a red rose for Her day.

Enjoy,
Mister Chris.

[hospicenurse]

Thank you Mister Chris!