My Flowers

Every now and again I find myself reading poems and to my astonishment they are very similar to some that I have written, sometimes even too similar and I wonder how persons from different environments, different struggles, different inspirations etc can come so close to mirroring each other in thoughts and in this case words and rhyme. It is even more weird because this time I dont even know who the author of this poem is, however I will share the two; my poem and that of the unknown author and you be the judge.

Give me my flowers

Give me my flowers while I'm alive
because I cant appreciate it when I die,
For I can't see the beauty of the petals
or smell the sweet scents
while my soul is at rest.
If I don't know who they came from
How can I show my thanks now?
Give me my flowers today
so I can plant them in the gardens of my heart
having beautiful memories until this earth; I depart.
I will see them bloom everyday,
having them color my gloomy days,
even share them with the world,
putting smiles on faces of little boys and girls.

by Nest@

and now the unknown author's poem:

If with pleasure you are viewing
Any work a man is doing,
If you like him or you love him,
Tell him now
Don't withhold your approbation
Till the preacher makes oration
And he lies with snowy lilies on his brow.
For no matter how you shout it
He won't really care about it,
He won't know how many teardrops
You have shed.
If you think some praise is due him
Now's the time to slip it to him,
For he cannot read his tombstone
When he's dead.

Well I prefer my version but that is only because I wrote it but you are free to give you unbiased opinions.