Here we are, under the pink-flower moon
The azaleas your mother planted are beautiful
They are in full Easter bloom
Even though we forgot to buy a pot of
Lilies in white tin foil
Last year's bulbs have found a new
home in the fragile, soft light under
the tree with warm brick roots
They will open up, they will greet you
at the gate and thank you for an early spring.
And we can remember the risen moon
where we found a sad, quiet bed
empty of the purr and cry of ours
He will come home. He will trail in
with the swooping June bugs
He will bring us the summer in his paws
I love you.
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