I planted her in your roots.
“Wrap her in your earthen arms, yellow rose.
Cradle her forever.”
But now you taunt me with your tiny buds,
year after year.
The pain creeps slowly,
Like the orange at the base of your petals.
And I try to ignore you at first.
There are other blossoms; bigger, more boisterous than you.
Heady aromas, frills and bright colors.
Children grown and strong and ready to be cherished.
You are delicate. Barely any thorns, hardly any fuss.
Easy to forget.
But as the garden fades into summer,
I pick out your familiar sugar-lemon scent.
And with it the memory returns.
Webbed fingers, blue eyes.
A still red heart sheathed in translucent skin.
She fit in the palm of my hand.
Peach and yellow burgeon across your blooms like a sunrise.
Your brightness calls me to you.
I can’t help but come.
Your petals fold around my face.
I breathe you in.
I am the translucent one now.
I am the one you still cradle.
I have lost.
but because of you, yellow rose,
I never will be.