He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close,
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.
But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know.
The thought of this brought a smile
and never brought a tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
between pages I revere.
Edwina Reizer's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A BOUQUET by Edwina Reizer )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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