IMG_4263I mention in my book how I buried some friends. Every year when the hydrangeas bloom (as they are doing right now), I am reminded of one of them and this poem I wrote afterwards.


Fringed by petals
Tinged with blue,
Hydrangeas bloom
Like last year
When death came
And took you away.

And now your house
Is dead, too;
The third step up,
Weeds growing out the window
Of the plastic playhouse;
Leaves from fall,
Pressed against the patio
For warmth,
Find none
And lay brown and decaying;
Spider-webbed windows
Watch an open cupboard cabinet,
A blender,
A box of cereal,
A book about Babar,
As if you left

Yet, hydrangeas bloom,
Not knowing
They were supposed to come
With you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s