The amaryllis she planted bloomed
when she was no longer there.

Red passionate flower unseen
follows the sun regardless.

A peacock-fan of fronds protects
the stem.

It’s a virus that striates the petals,
imbues them with streaks of pinks.

Where she kneeled to sow, the earth
holds two soft dimples still.

These well with water on rainy days
but dry quite sere in full sun.

I am overwhelmed by sight, smell
and sound, this day just like then.

I close my eyes, open my heart,
to hear and to feel her again.

© Chagall ∞

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