Poem # 5 Flower Shop memories

At this time of year spring is steadily moving towards us like a tumbleweed before the wind.The seasonal change from winter to spring invites me to consider the circle of life, birth, death, and renewal.Reincarnation does exist, because when we die energy is released and this energy is taken up by other parts of our environment. Who can know what we become, we are all part of the great wheel of life, and flowers are an enduring symbol of spring. The following poem is about flowers, death, and the wheel turning.

Flower Shop Memories

I went to the florist
in the country town
where I was born.

"You've bought flowers here before",said the florist,
a friendly guy named Dave.
a long time ago when we first opened up."

"To Adelaide?"

Before Adelaide. Even before Amidale"

He was weaving a spider web of heartbreak right before my eyes.

"It was to Balmain
a dozen pink and orange roses, very pretty
in a nice ornate vase as I recall.
Have you forgotten?"

That had been a long time ago.
The flowers had been for Doon,
who'd died very young,
and had been pressed between the pages of my life more
than two decades ago.

I'd called the old federation house
to make sure the flowers had arrived,
the house was double fronted pale blue weatherboard,
with stained glass windows.

I remember the times when the doors
and windows were open and light burst out
from a house full of life.

Doon had already left for London,
but I still recall the words of Sarah
who was always cleaning.

" Doon left the vase",she'd said
"but she took the roses."

"I haven't forgotten",I said.