They are the only ones who gets through to me. I am the only one who gets through to them. I am the only one who gets through to them. Five thriving flowers with dirty rooms and messy faces like mine.Five who can not be here but are here. Five questioned children made by mom and dad. From the porch, we see them blooming, but they just sit back and doesn’t see us grow with things.

Their talents are secret They send life messages within special talks They grow up and grow down and grab the earth within their dirty roots and grasp the sky with their soft blanket and never close their path.This is how they grow.
Let all remember their reason for being, they’d all soar like eagles in the sky each with their pedals pushing one another. Grow, grow, grow, mom says through our lives. She teach.
When we are too scared and too mellow, grow, growing, when we are tiny things against so much of the world, we look at grass. When there is nothing left to do but keep going. Five who grew up despite others. Five who reach and do not forget to keep reaching. Five whose only reason is to grow and grow.