In Bloom . . .
today,
floodgates opened
as tears smudged the image
of the profusion:
Spring's fragile blooms -
on the way
to my home, alone;
I have missed
that little house
and have not allowed
my pain to be revealed...
The almost-home we shared,
with a pink azalea
to the right of our front door -
those camellias all lined
down the drive:
red, pink, white, and saucy
even in the sultry South'rn spring -
Dogwoods, also, laden:
deliate blossoms, creamy pale,
and a proud, ruddy plum
first to welcome us home...
Wisteria lace, recklessly playing
along trees and fence
throughout in back -
Sun and shadow chasing
o'er pine needles littered on the grass -
and even that sunny forsythia
'tween neighbor's yard and ours...
I miss that little house
Now, I admit my
longing, the empty place
where I'd hoped faith and family
would grow;
I may finally feel, and know
it isn't wrong
for my heart to have been
broken
for it only believed in love...
K.E.C. / 031497
[written on the way home from work, looking at all the lovely houses & flowers... and having an onslaught of memories from a life past...]