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Cut Flower
by Kristina Woodhill
You've begun a child's game
Of teeter totter
This decade, though,
The sharp-scythed reaper sits opposite
Or consider tug-o-war
Though, your grip so fragile
I discard that analogy
Place you gently back a' teetering
From where heat felled you
Yesterday
Lying out in the hot sun
Surrounded by roses
You just dead-headed
Your white head blazing rosey red
Your turn to pant for water
While you slur a new language
Of jibber-jabber
As I gaze into a face
Peeling away its delicate fading petals
New buds in full shrivel
07/04/2016 Author's Note: The elderly do not understand the heat. Found my mom, 95, passed out in the hot sun in her back yard. Luckily she is recovering OK. Very close call.
Posted on 07/04/2016
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 07/04/16 at 07:49 PM God bless her. It's supposed to be 97 today. The humid heat of the Deep South takes few prisoners of men or machine and the locals plan around it. Beautiful expression of concern for her. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/04/16 at 08:37 PM Powerful piece of work Kristina. Strongly reminds me of the relationship with my mom in her closing...and then final days. Kudos and prayers for both of you. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 07/05/16 at 02:18 AM So glad she is safe! I love the write and it hits home, as at 79 now, my wife is always telling not to cut the grass or weed whack the yard when it is so hot. But I tell her I can't wait the whole summer, 3 or 4 months, or it will be two feet high. Besides I think it isn't a bad way to go if it is fast enough. |
| Posted by Johanna May on 07/11/16 at 03:28 AM I hope your mom feels better. A lovely metaphor to remember frailty. Your words as delicate itself. |
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