Gathering lovely yellow blooms,
Bringing them in the dining room,
Putting some in a vase so bright now.
I was ready to take a bow,
For the gracious, loving, thoughtfulness of it.
How was I to know Ura May would have a fit?
“Ragweed! Oh no! Achoo! achoo! My hayfever!”
“Take them quickly I’m not the receiver
Of your gift from the meadow.”
“And the vase, too. Go.”
I had no worry about that mistake,
Not anything to make my heart break.
So I went on my way,
Off to another project and play.
