Poem: The Wildflower Gatherer – 08/01/20

 she hunts for the perfect blossoms
 and odds and ends, she has uses for them
 those with strangely mottled leaves or browned petals, 
 a quick clip, rip, 
 now wondrous.
  
 lilies are her favourite, but roses?
 just magnificent, 
 in her front garden which she lovingly tends,
 she has built up a fortress of scents and shades
 that stuns the senses.
  
 I watch her from the front doorway, as she bends and plucks
 and snips and adds,
 immersed in a task she adores,
 suddenly, a subtraction: 
 one bloom falls. 
  
 discarded by the wayside, 
 that one shall perish. 
 I giggle to myself at his misfortune. 
 I can’t help it.  
 
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

Photo credit: Myself  

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