Flowers Grow Back

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Flowers are a constant

But subtle

They're in the jaded vase

That was your grandmother's

beautifully

wilting

Slowly

They rest

Peacefully

Flowers are a constant

But subtle

They were in your father's hands

When your mother held you for the first time

Fresh and vibrantly

Loud

Echoing the sounds of your first cry

They were placed

Gently

Tenderly

In your mother's hands

Flowers are a constant

But subtle

For the ends

For the beginnings

Like the blooms of spring

Like the descending of fall

Because everything goes

But flowers

Grow

Back 

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