She’s started to exhale,
and there’s a tiny whisper
of a story that holds hope;
I might be exhumed
from her nightmares.
I meant only to go as far as needed,
and find a grander garden for us to live in.
I didn’t know how to speak this to you
“Just hold on,
I don’t know a band of horses ready for a funeral.”
My thumbs weren’t quite green,
so I didn’t yet know the nuances of caring for Lilium,
for succulents, for tulips, for lotus flower bombs,
your irises, with all your morning glories, all my cosmos.
Too late a new dawn was drawn
before I learned the secret garden wasn’t something found.
Our roots already knew what I know now.
Dream catchers, this is no requiem,
there is life, let me through.
I’m planting sweet dreams
in hopes they catch her tooth.
This time perennials because I’d like
to spend more seasons knowing you.