“Magnolia, my dear, would you
look over here, there’s a tree
that looks so much like I do.
Though the leaves are much longer,
seeming more delicate than mine,
and her flower is different, she’s taller.
Do you know what her name is,
is she new in our town?
Another to watch over, to
see she’s not cut down.
Beautiful white, my favourite, free
that’s the color of the flower in me.
Surrounded by glory of green in the wind
making her delicate, long fingers spin.
Magnolia, my dear, what do you see
when you look at her crown?
Is it flowers, or thorns, leaves or the like,
or does this one sleep mornings and stay up all night?
Her flowers are lovely, no thorns does she hide,
her leaves are so smooth and not sharp.
They shine when you see them
in a very bright sunlight.
Magnolia Grande Flora, that’s her name,
or so I’m told, and yes she is, she’s new in town
she’s not so very old.
Her perfume, it’s heaven, so light on the leaf…
she’s filled with the daylight, you’ll find here no grief.
A delightful addition to the neighbourhood overall,
and oh, lordy, lordly, so stately and tall.
In New Orleans, they say, her perfume
lingers strong in the night air…
She has glitters of silver shining
brightly through her hair.
With beautiful healing highlights
on her tips that sway so smooth,
and dance a gentle rhythm ‘neath the light of silver moon.
Magnolia, my dear, does she speak, can she hear
when we whisper in the winds ‘round her being?
Does she linger, gently sighing, feeling sadness, is she crying
for somewhere she used to long ago live strong?
No, I think she’s just quiet,
let’s go welcome her with our flower.
We don’t smell quite so fragrant, and our
height not as grand, but we are honoured
for we’ve found, we are related to her stand;
rising strong from the earth beneath our feet.
Let’s offer her the crown, the one that in our
heart is bound…and help her weather
any storms that come our way.
Magnolia, My Dear, it’s time to nap
I think it’s clear, that Lady Grande Flora’s
come to stay.”
© Deborah L. Kelly