Guess no one much visits this lonely corner of JPF. Ah, well, for what it's worth:

Empty Flowers

It was first pansies
that I set to earth,
yellow and violet to
adorn the stone;
but they seemed lonely
by themselves,
so I gave them friends,
daffodil and daisies,
to keep you company.

I worried that you’d
miss your roses,
so I planted them as well,
deep crimson and pearl white
growing tall beside
the statue of the laughing girl
with her watering can,
where I thought
you’d see them best.

I built the arbor
I always promised,
and let the wisteria’s
soft blues and pinks
climb and weave their way
through the lattice;
reaching for the heavens,
they bow yet before you.

I added lilacs though
you never cared for them,
because the purple
reminds me of your eyes;
then I planted sunflowers,
because they always
made you smile.

From seed, bulb and bud,
this garden I grew and grow,
tending each leaf and blossom
with purpose and passion;
all about you it has sprung
in infinite shades and hues,
a symphony of color
sounding of love and life
that sadly leaves me longing still.

Yet there are moments
when the sun hits just right
that I am taken beyond breath
by the beauty of my efforts,
and am struck by the irony:

I never liked flowers,
and never understood the hours
you spent in your garden—
planting and pruning;
watering and weeding.
I would find myself
watching from our place
on the porch exasperated,
wondering when you’d ever leave it
to come sit beside me.

So how is it now
that I can’t pass a nursery
without buying a flat
of impatiens or marigolds;
that I wake in the night
and fret the weather;
that I wake in the morn
and curse the deer that snacked
so delightedly on the begonias;
that I stand for hours
admiring our neighbor’s beds,
and chastise myself
for not doing more.

When the sun shines,
I am on my knees in the soil
from first to last light,
as content as I can be.
And on rainy days,
I sit on the porch with my coffee,
and stare endlessly at the blooms,
this memorial I have created.

In a way, nothing has changed:
I still spend hours gazing
at you in your garden—
though I know now
you will never again leave it
to sit beside me.

(c) DJ Lekich 2014