Legacy

                                             

     Legacy

My aging father

sadly said good bye to gardening

handing me brown-

skinned treasures;

his knobby hands cradle

tuberous bulbs.

His smile promises striking orange-pink.                                        

I plant, watching green blades

grow broad and abundant…

year after year,

lovely thick clumps with no blooms.

I wonder if Dad holds the secret

of gladioli. I mourn each season’s loss

plan to dig up, discard, but not yet.

This spring, I’m ill, vulnerable and

rich spikes with voluptuous buds

rise triumphantly above the green clumps.

I watch in wondrous anticipation.

Perhaps the secret

is in letting go. No wonder glads

have become memorial flowers!

My heart swells with promises

of orange-pink while knowing

I patiently loved only green.

Dad’s legacy lives in orange-pink

promises, in lush green letting go,

in growing in wisdom and dignity.   

                                                        

                               

Love you, Dad….sharon