The Field of Flowers

On top of a large hill, there is an old tree, it overlooks a field of flowers, an older lady walks up it everyday, and she looks and names each new flower. Red flowers she names them after her grandson, the yellows she names after her granddaughter, the blues are her sons, and the purples are her daughter. And one day many days later, she climbed up on the hill, she called out to all her flowers, saying, "I love you like my own," She sat underneath that old tree, and breathed her last breath, but she knew with her final thought, she had made the flowers know, she loved them.