The Chick and the Old Biddy

 A movement out my window caught my eye

Took a closer look, wondered why,

The young girl was sneaking up my drive

Carefully, stealthily, trying to contrive,

Looking at my tulips, hoping not to be seen.

She thought that she would get away clean.

She stretched out her arms, a tulip in each hand,

That is when I interrupted her plan.

“What are you doing?” I sounded quite gruff,

I opened the door – I’d had enough.

I stepped to the porch, “Now bring them to me”

‘Twas more than irritation, I was angry to see

That youngsters had no respect for others’ property

With no regard to what it would do to me.

“Why did you do it?”  She started to say,

“I just wanted to pick a little bouquet.”

Her chin started to quiver, her eyes were full,

Inside I felt a tug, I felt a pull,

“You like flowers?” – A nod of her head,

She was too near tears for much to be said.

“So do I, and it took much work on my part

To clear the ground and give them a start

Something that’s mine you’ve taken away,

A beautiful thing to have brightened my day.”

“I’m sorry,” her voice could hardly be heard,

My hand on her shoulder said more than her word.

“Just knock on the door, next time you’ve a yen,

To pick someone’s flowers and do this again.

I’ll say yes or no, or what I think right.

I’m sorry I yelled, but you gave me a fright,”

With another “I’m sorry” and a hesitating hug,

She looked to me like a frightened little bug.

I took the tulips, held them out to her,

Now my eyes were starting to blur.

She ran down the walk, I thought “This is it.”

The end of what, to me, was an emotional bit.

An hour or so later, in the midst of a chore,

I was called by a rapping on my back door.

The little girl was there, I was surprised to see

Now she had brought some flowers to me.

Had I made an impression or were my words for nought?

Whose garden did she rob – of the flowers she brought?