When she was once so small and an only child
What now seems to her the longest time ago
She fell in love with the little yellow flowers
That along her home street that would grow
She never dated at all or went out a lot in life
A quiet kind of lass back then always was she
And the only time she seemed to get that excited
Was when out at all these flowers she would see
She mostly stayed at home until she was grown
As her dad had past away sometime awhile ago
And How she was so thrilled when she had found
These little yellow flowers at his grave was to grow
Her mother was older and in a wheel chair not too well
And she remained at home to take care of her as well
Her mother later had nick named her little yellow flower
As this young girl how she loved these shaped like a bell
Sometime later on one day with the breezes being strong
She was in her coat on her way back from the local store
And upon the very edge of a pathway on her way to home
She came across again these yellow flowers she adored
She then bent and she picked and she pinned them then
Within her longest blondest hair upon that very day
And when she arrived back home found she was so alone
As her mother during her absence had passed away
She was now on her own and very much then alone
And still chose to remain so long just that very way
And most of the souls all around that very little town
Would call her the little yellow flower lass called May
What seemed the longest time yet to come in her life
She had them simply growing almost everywhere at home
For it seemed as long as she had these little yellow flowers
It seemed that she never ever in her life felt that all alone
When some folks would call to ask how she was at times
She would often then invite them in just for a cup of tea
And all around her every wall it seemed to them all
All these pictures of yellow flowers they would there see
She soon had them growing up her garden path out front
And in colored pots all on her out front then front porch
During night in the street lights they would seem to glow
As if they all were lit up there just as if lit with a torch
Now having eventually grown very old there was stories told
Of how this older woman loved her little yellow golden bell
And how she simply in life could not get enough of them
For so long ago so in love with them as a lass she'd fell.
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