When I was a child my mother told me,
"Rain makes the flowers grow."
Not long after, she bought me a flower
And told me to water it often.
Being a child, I was confused,
For the rain didn't come "often," it seemed.
So I waited until the first rain came
And took my flower out for a drink.
An old man with an umbrella happened by and looked at me queerly.
"No need to get all wet!" he said,
"You can give your flower water from the sink!"
Because he was a stranger, I ran quickly to the back of the house.
Awhile later, I learned that he was right.
But still, even now, in the back of my mind,
I know that ever tasteful flower prefers
The nourishment of rain over plain tap water.
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