The first blush of spring
reminds me of the time
he brought me tulips
wrapped in brown paper
so he wouldn't crush their fragility,
their luminous pink petals smiling out
and his smile meeting mine
with a glimmer of hope
in his eyes
He said, pink tulips for your
beautiful, pink, two lips…
So long ago,
but just yesterday
in the illusory portion
of my brain that refuses
to accept the finality of a world
without pink tulips wrapped in brown
and the beautiful face floating above
wreathed in that warm look
of giddy adulation
He said, sorry they're not wrapped
prettily, but I wanted them to be the star
just like you are…
When they laid him to rest
in the dead of winter
I got strange looks
when I placed a
bouquet of them
wrapped in a
shopping bag
on his casket.