Mrs. Baldwin

Picked every one of them.
So lovely and intoxicating.
Pinks and purples
With the sweet scent of Spring.
Easter perfection on a stem.

Picked every one of them.
Perfectly in a line along
Mrs. Baldwin’s front sidewalk.
Presented them to my mother
With the open innocence of a preschooler.

Except, no.
My mother marched me across the street.
Mrs. Baldwin opened her door
And saw a four year old holding every one of her perfect, sweet smelling, Easter colored hyacinth in her little hands.

Still a bit shocked at my mother’s abrupt rebuke and
the forced pilgrimage back across the street,
I mumbled an apology.
Mrs. Baldwin, smiling, gracious and patient
Unlike my mortified mother.

A deal was struck between the two women.
The pilfered bouquet was split in half.
I considered this a victory
The price of which was having to listen to my mother.
“Never do that again.”

I admire every glorious, perfumy, delicious hyacinth.
Thank you, Mrs. Baldwin.





5 thoughts on “Mrs. Baldwin”

    1. Thank you for taking the time to comment. Glad you liked it. As for a “follow” button, there is a subscribe area down the left hand margin. I guess I should add a true button. Thanks.

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