From clumps of tiny blossoms strike out

lilac and honeysuckle thieves

across dew-soaked grass, wafting upward

through her kitchen window

Ancient eyes tip-toe cross memory’s

little fingers and rosy cheeks

picking dandelion-roses leaving

tiny footprints upon her journeys trail.

Morning sunlight crawls across the kitchen table,

as she clears her family’s breakfast dishes,

warming her vase of failing flowers of days

that only God may erase.