Morning Glory

There was a girl.
Every summer morning she
would run to the trellis
with the peeling paint
to count morning glory blooms.

There was a girl.
Every summer morning she
would greet her mother
with a report on the number of flowers
on the trellis with the peeling paint.

There was a girl
whose entire world was no bigger
than her yard
and her mother’s approval.

She was a morning glory.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *