Almost as if you had never been away –
there you are; not to be confused
with other blooms that fill the yard –
framed in an open window.
Such a fragile flower, you were; no staid
Calla Lily, but the beauty of your bloom
can never fade, yet grow more intense...
the more time passes.
That tipsy-brimmed hat you always wore –
flapping in the breeze, half-covering
your face – lit up by laughter; a hand,
shyly raised to anchor it.
Back then, sunshine filled this room –
curtains fluttered like a bird, and I
drank my fill of you. A taste, sweeter
by far, than any nectar.