The Mother Plant

By , September 3, 2012 5:10 PM

Begonia blossom, frosted by light

 

Beautiful begonia, you

were bequeathed to me

by my mother,

her body

three years cold

in the ground,

her spirit

I know not where.

If it is true

there are no tears in heaven

then perhaps indeed

He saves the

simple hearted.

 

I warm your foliage in my palms

each morning

share left over nighttime drink,

give thought

for the hands

that first nurtured you

and me.

 

She left behind

your green leaves

that stretch and yearn

for the pale winter

that streams through the window.

Your salmon petals,

like a heart —

frost

in the sun

like hers.

 

I brush away

a water droplet —

accidentally touch

the sore spot

where this loss

seems not

to heal.

 

Copyright 2012 Brett Valentine Winn

2 Responses to “The Mother Plant”

  1. Brett says:

    I do … it breaks my heart to think of the number of times I could have called her … and did not. :(

  2. rachel says:

    sometimes do you just miss her..long just to talk for a while? I do. My begonia is doing well this summer. love you….

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