A Season For Living


I’d always loved flowers.

You helped me

surround myself with them

to bring me joy.

I would like to lie in my garden

in the midst of the soft sweet smelling mist

of them 

forever.

But everything has it’s time,

its time to live,

and its time to die

and only the flowers 

will bloom eternally

each in its season.

This is my season for living

and it’s now that I need them.

When I’m dead I won’t see them on my grave,

won’t know that you’ve brought them for me

won’t know if you haven’t,

or care.

The flowers you carry 

in that season should be for you,

for all of you that I left behind

and all of you still to come.

Don’t let them die

for me.

Nobody wants dead flowers,

least of all, dead people.



https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2024/04/lynn-white.html

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