Breadcrumb #403


I wipe the sweat from my forehead and
admire the flowers -
I have waited all year for them to grow.
I have watered them,
felt their petals on my soft fingers,
clenched the soil between them and sobbed
on my knees, submissive to dirt
you tell me the beauty lies in the impermanence
but I long for something tangible
the sour taste of sap, dripping from you -
a promise.
when you are gone, they are flaccid
bent over, praying
for redemption
they turn to dust.
our daughter wants to know,
"will we disappear too?"

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