I've got a place for flowers to grow,
the cleaning lady said.
The first time in my life, her words,
while making up our bed.
This hotel maid, with so few words,
had said so very much.
Of simple pleasures in our lives,
her life had not been touched.
I stopped to think about my life,
I have so very much.
A pleasant home, a family place,
with flowers by the bunch.
For granted, take I, all these things,
from life, I've taken such.
These simple pleasures, overlooked,
to her they mean so much.
The deep lines in her face revealed,
a life of toil and pain.
Her quiet voice, by flowers thrilled,
of life, she'd not complain.
Such a contrast, her and I,
of life, I've taken such.
Those many things, I give no thought,
to her they mean so much.
Simple lessons, oft revealed,
by strangers that we meet.
This cleaning lady, by her words,
of thankfulness entreat.
A message passed without a thought,
so very clear and plain.
I've got a place for flowers to grow,
should be our life's refrain.
Daniel Parks