Imprimir I\'m a Little Flower; and Lily is my Name (a poem at New Year\'s) by AuburnScribbler

when I\'m plucked from ancient bed,

I\'m wrapped to be so sad,

to be the sign; of someone dead,

thus, to them; I\'m bad,

I don\'t have a say in this,

as they make the way,

for those who choose; I am much missed,

inside; preferred; bouquet,

I\'m a little flower; and Lily is my name,

I\'m just sitting in the mud and waiting for the rain,

until a talking monkey picks; to give my petals use,

whilst silent cries from me; not heard; I fade in their abuse,

when costly wedding bells do strike;

I\'m rarely ever seen,

again the choking numbers like

everything but me,

what on Earth; have I done

to mark such disrespect?

From those who make a friend of gun

to form; the life; neglect,

I\'m a little flower; and Lily is my name,

I\'m just sitting in the mud and waiting for the rain,

until a talking monkey picks; to give my petals use,

whilst silent cries from me; not heard; I fade in their abuse,

lo\' January does hug me still,

an ally\'s always there,

as to it; I\'m joy refilled

the rebirth of all care,

but what can I do with that?

I\'m trampled on the ground,

by mortal shames; so proud; so fat

their sin-phony of sound,

I\'m a little flower; and Lily is my name,

I\'m just sitting in the mud and waiting for the rain,

beside me talking monkeys sleep; to give me my excuse,

to be so glad; to be away; from all of their abuse!