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Threw Out Some Flowers Today
I threw out
some flowers today
Old, dry, withered roses, leaves
Curled and breaking in my hands
Stems snapping
As I pushed them down
Into the trash.
The babies-breath
I took and
Used in an arrangement
That I made last week
Purple, yellow, pink and white flowers
In a ceramic blue and white
Watering can.
I don’t know
The names of any of them.
I bought those
flowers
For myself, for the table
On Easter Sunday when
My mother was here.
She likes flowers, so do I
(I just hate buying them for myself.)
The roses came
from a man I met
A friend I’d never actually seen,
But spoken to many times.
We’d written letters, and talked.
He gave me the flowers
The day we had coffee together.
He left in a hurry
Looking at his watch,
To get to his dinner
With his sister and her family
They were waiting for him
I smiled as best as I knew how.
Now, lights are
flashing
The buzzers and bells blaring
I collect my son from his idea of fun,
We picked out his prize.
Too many choices,
None of them good
He finally decided,
And then we could go too.
To wander the
corridors
Of the artificial village
People watching,
And looking at all the shiny things,
As I carried the roses
With me from shop to shop
Careful not to lose them at a counter
Or a bench.
(They were beautiful, after all.)
At home my son and
I
Arranged them carefully,
Turning them this way and that
To find the best effect
In the light in the kitchen
And place them on the table.
Well, so much for
that…
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