Watering What Was Left To Grow Poem by Susan Lacovara

The faces of your fun flowers
Optimistic, as I used to be
Lift to bask in the streaming sun
Unaware that I hang my head
In the gray of overcast cloudy whys
I tend to them
As I had hoped to tend to you
Giving daily drinks to squelch thirst
Laboring on my hands and knees
To procure a proper bed
Their roots dive deep, now,
Settling into the security of this
Being their permanent placement
To flourish
To add a hint of loveliness
To the simple home I made for us
With kind and tender touch
I water what was left to grow
Awaiting the burst of color
Knowing these to be your favorites
Gathered then, by your loving hand
Planted near the open door of our future
Gaining strength to stand taller
With passing time
Our season, it was to be...
Now I have the task
Of weeding the bed
That was to be our shared garden
Although I long to see the bountiful blossoms
I fear their appearance will break my heart