Pretty things

Across the street
From the cemetery
Is the house

We grew up in, its yard
Confettied with yellow leaves
We'd rake in piles to dive into
Scattering them again

Today, my loss
Is tied with a bright bow
Like a fruit basket
With perfect apples
Too sour to eat

Spiced pink carnations
Tickling the back of my nose

Flowers always made him sneeze

See?  That's progress.
Thinking of him 
Made my lips twitch up
In something very similar
To a smile.

About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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3 Responses to Pretty things

  1. Brian Carlin says:

    Just how I like it, deceptively simple, precise words talked into my ear. Gorgeous.

  2. Trent Lewin says:

    I know the reasons are not opportune, but it’s good to see your poetry again, Susan. Few spin it like you do. Loss tied with a bright bow… really amazing.

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