Fleur de Lys

I do not know if you know. I do not know if you see. Yet, spring is back with rain and blossom. The clay dirt is still cold; graveyards still silent. Soon it will be shade upon your stone, shaped as a tear drop, frozen in a time. A time when I thought we had a lot of time. A time when we postponed the joys we thought we would share later.
This morning, the day-lilies you planted five years ago broke the dirt looking for sun. When I sit by your stone for hours, I sometimes hope you would do the same. Even if only for spring. That you would break the dirt. The dirt that is still cold of a long winter of dark skies and naked trees.
I do not know if you know, but the day-lilies you planted are out.

March 6, 2009