I thought your flowers were in bloom,
the ones brought so much light that rainy day.
Tomorrow is your birthday-
the first one since your death,
I would not have remembered
if it were not for the flowers.
But this is the thing about flowers-
especially perennial wild flowers-
they bloom at certain times, and your flowers-
the ones from that October day,
are not blooming.
They have the lush, green, mark of summer-
but the blooms are long dead
and have not returned.
I miss you and keep seeing you everywhere-
but, like with the flowers,
when I look closer I am mistaken it is not you.
But, I want you to know
I have not stopped looking.