Email Poem

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Poem

We have come from every district
In the whole of our large state.
We hold a big  convention,
Every year around this date.
We greet each other cheerfully,
I’ve been friends with some for years,
Then turn back to our creations as
Completion deadline nears.

We know what the judges hope to find, 
They come from our own ranks.
They look for beauty and harmony.
Their only pay is thanks. 
We’ve memorized the scale of points
On which entries will be judged.
Each judge knows the rules by heart
And will notice if we’ve fudged. 

I stand back from my exhibit
And sincerely make a try
To see not as a mother views her child,
But with honest judge’s eye.
I carefully adjust another line
Before it is time to depart.
The judges are impatient for 
Their judging rounds to start.

I wander to another room
Where judging is all done.
I find to my amazement that
My chamaecypais nookatensis has won.
It has taken the arboreal award.
That is a nice surprise.
But it is in the other room
Where result of my labor lies.

We try to cheer each other
As we stay to hear our fate.
The judging books are closing.
We will not have long to wait.
I spy from far across the way,
Red ribbon lying there.
My flower arrangement’s taken second,
Which to first cannot compare.

I hide my disappointment
And hold back a falling tear.
And vow to win the big one
In the Flower Show next year.

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