Author’s note: The final poem in the Language of Flowers series
Picking at the petals of an asphodel in bloom,
Playing in the shallows of a life still full of lights.
Lying came too soon
To make me see the right.
Words eclipsed the moon
When the boy and the man escaped into the night.
I had but two
And now I have not even one.
Alone at last without you,
I’ve dried up in the sun.
The boy, he was bright and new
But I wish he’d never come.
Silence goes the flowers,
Speak no more of how he left.
Silence by the hours,
No more crying for his theft,
How he took with him his powers,
Perhaps it’s only for the best.
I’m sorry, love, for all it cost.
This wasn’t how we were to end.
I’ll shed a tear for what was lost
So that I can begin to mend.
A rock unturned can show no moss.
My posies have no more messages left to send.