The unwatered plant

He slapped a frown on her crown.

The plant was not watered and it withered and died.

She forgave over and over again.

Her chin became attached to the palm of her right hand.

The season changed; it rained and it rained and the plant fell from its frame.

He pushed her here, hither, and there.

She left her faith sitting in the chair.

The reason for the season blew away like the mist at night in the dark alone in the park.

She stood tall, she held on tight, and fought her feeling through the night.

The owl peeped through the tree making his presence known.

That morning she pondered, worried, fretted, and cried. 

The chicken jumped over the fence. 

Dinner was served without meat.

He shined his shoes, told her he was sorry for the 12th time, and headed east. 

By noon, confusion had taken a toll on her soul.  

She snapped the string beans in 100 pieces.

The sun jumped over the moon, but the message arrived that afternoon.

She threatened to harm herself.

Her sister told her, “Go ahead.”

Words sis would one day dread.

She cried for help; they went to her side. 

She cried for help; they went to her side.

She cried for help; they screamed wolf. 

She cried for help; they yelled wolf.

She gave up the ghost.

They dressed in black, and rode in that pretty Cadillac.

She is no more.

They all cried at her graveside.

By Poet Meredith Coleman McGee, Author, Odyssey 2nd edition  https://www.amazon.com/Odyssey-Meredith-Coleman-McGee/dp/099932263X