Truth Is a Cobalt Blue Vase

As long as 

I could remember,

she had loved flowers

In her gardens,

on her table

She could no longer 

work the land, 

it was struggle enough

to care for herself

these days

Her blue vase,

the former centerpiece 

of her stunning

dining room table,

now sat on a small 

bedside stand

to brighten 

the confines

of the only room 

she could still 

call her own

With each visit,

she would tell me 

the names of the 

beautiful occupants:

ox-eye sunflowers,

wild bergamot,

rough blazing stars

With curiosity,

my mind wondered

which flowers 

I’d see blooming today

when I stepped 

inside Grandma’s room

The emptiness of the vase

told me everything

before the nursing home staff

could say a word

Written April 3, 2020