Disconnected thoughts of flowers.

[sabriel007]

It was a difficult day, but it ended
with the lilacs blooming. Purple
fading to white, scent unfolding,
enfolding us.

I always think of you when the oxalis blooms,
with every daffodil, and splash of yellow.
I always think of you.

If the lilacs hadn't bloomed, maybe
we wouldn't really be here.
It could all be a dream, imagination,
except then the smell would just be a memory of lilacs,
nothing so strong, so powerful,
so grounding. We are here, they say.
We are here,
without you.

There is another daffodil.