Wednesday Poetry Prompt: 312 — #2

What was left behind

Your green thumb could coax dead dry husks
To sprout from stale ground – verdant, alive
Our garden was layer upon layer all flowers, vegetables, and green
A passerby would hardly notice the herbs,
The tradeable kind, you dried in the microwave

Most impressive were the long leggy Cosmos and Phlox
Bright explosions – pink purple yellow orange fireworks
Across a backdrop of scarlet runners
Our private hideaway from the always peering
Eyes of neighbouring trailers.

We feasted on chard stalks, red purple and clean
Green bean strings, summer ripe tomato bites and
Baby white potatoes.  We ate like kings, like queens

So full of these memories, I search for you
Amongst the stalls at the farmer’s market
Certain to see your face between the rows
Like you never left, were never gone.
But no – it is just my mind playing tricks –
Coaxing life from the dead dry remnants of a time
I was left with instead.

-Krina Ulmer

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