Part II: Connor and the Wildflower Poem

Today’s daily prompt: By Heart

You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?

The first thing that popped into my mind was “A Gift of Love”. I still remember my excitement during my first Christmas Concert practice in 4th grade when I heard it. It was the song I didn’t even know I knew. It felt like I had been searching for it the entire time. Most likely because we perform it every year, the song sounded very familiar but I had no recollection of the lyrics.

“A Gift of Love” is the song that is performed by all the children at my elementary school during the Christmas Concert. We sing it every year as the finale. Kids of every grade will file alongside the walls of the gymnasium, seat aisles, or the stage and sing it together. I remember the Christmas Concerts as a highlight of my childhood years and I was heavily involved in many performances, including the school choir and drama club. To this day I still remember all the lyrics and and how it was printed in big letters in my red choir duotang. I think it is my favorite non-conventional Christmas song.


This is the second chapter of my short story series, inspired by NaNoWriMo/NaBloPoMo.

Part I: Connor and the Lined Paper

“Now it’s Connor’s turn to recite his poem.”

Connor grinned excessively from the front of the classroom. All eyes were on him- even Father was looking from where he stood with Mother. Confidently, Connor recited his favorite poem:

Night Fun
I hear eating.

I hear drinking.
I hear music.
I hear laughter.
Fun is something
Grownups never have
Before my bedtime.
Only after.

Connor returned to his seat among applause with deep chuckles from the parents at the back of the room. From his seat, Connor wretched his neck to see Father’s reaction to his funny poem. Thankfully, he was still there and he was laughing with all the other parents.

Connor felt like he could fly out the window with pleasure. He didn’t bother to look back to see Mother’s reaction, but he’s certain she liked it. He had practiced in front of her yesterday afternoon and she had showered him with compliments.

What a good decision he made to have the librarian help him print out his poem from the computer! The piece of snowy paper and sharp black words danced gleefully on his desk like a big “good job” sticker. Maybe today after school he will give it to Father as a present.

“Thank you Connor. Next we have Samantha with her poem.”

Samantha got up from her seat and stood where Connor did; she had no paper on her hands. With a clear voice and closed eyes, she recited her poem:

You have to look closely
To see that it is pretty
You have to look long
To see that it is lovable
You are the same.

Connor clapped politely as Samantha slipped back into her chair in the first row. Samantha’s poem wasn’t as funny as his was, but Connor liked the way Samantha recited it like a song that doesn’t need to rhyme.

He thought about the wildflowers that grew in the forest behind the school parking lot. They had yellow petals spiraling outwards like the head of a lion. One time, Connor picked some for Mother as a present. She said she would take very good care of it when they returned home but Connor didn’t remember seeing it in a vase anywhere. Mother must have kept it in her jewelry box or somewhere secret.

It was too bad, the wildflowers would have looked very pretty on the dining table. At least, Connor thought so.

To be continued…

eb66a206fcba478341eac3efd4d5ac5d Sincerely, Loewe


3 thoughts on “Part II: Connor and the Wildflower Poem

To Loewe:

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