Small verses, like little flowers that bloom and die too quickly to see.
—
Is she a daisy,
Too careless to cloak her joy,
Jubilating with the sun?
Or is she a rose,
Sad beauty in her face?
—
The lilac in the kitchen
was named for you.
I scrub the pans,
smell the sweetness,
and think of how you used to look
in the late-spring sun.
Of how you used to look
at me
in the late-
in the late-spring sun.