because I was photographing trees you gave me a wild flower because we shared that graveyard moment you brought me this yellow as the ripened summer weedy as dandelions folklore food for hawk eyes because of how the flower sucked up the sun it showed the grim detachment of your proffered hand kindling conversation by a tombstone den amongst the oldest of London's Christians because I am well-seasoned now jaundiced thoughts were squashed like lice against the backdrop of the old brick workhouse and still the poor and derelict are with us because such moments are rare and even common flowers fade I captured your gesture forever
A true tale in simple verse written for the Midweek Motif: “A flower was offered to me….”
and I guess a flower suitable for the imaginary garden
PoetryPix 