I picked this bouquet for you
Trusting your life would be longer than theirs.
They released from their roots with ease,
knowing they would soon join the others
In His palm –
I too, held tightly.
You were my first taste of the black beverage,
I needed light cream –
I imagined the sunrise from your back porch
where time was of no concern.
You touched my thigh, reminding me of my value – whispering
even though it was only the two of us.
Your secrets are safe with me.
You left Thursday before I made it home with the wildflowers.
I still snipped them and placed them in an old coffee mug on the windowsill overlooking my sink.
The magnetic butterflies breathed to life, as you took your last.
All I need now is your tight pinch on my upper arm and a seat to share.
At least I inherited your nose.
I miss you gram. Tell Jesus thank you.