When I see flowers
I think of how pretty and beautiful they look to me
I like the beautiful colors and the nice smell
when I get close to it
and smell it.

When I see them and I'm mad
and I try and break one
because I'm mad about something at home,

I can break it
but then I realize that it's just like
breaking someone's finger
and pulling the stem that connects to the flower.

And then I think about how its life
is the same as mine
if you die you can't come back.

The flower's life depends on us
Yes

Because you kill a flower and it's just like pulling
their finger
it hurts you and the flower.

I protect the flower by not killing or pulling it
I protect the flower just like I protect myself.


More Poems from Friends of the Children
Face Your Fears
Blank
Assumptions
Blue to Red
My Dad