Flowers

The affair was all coming and going
in snatched half-hours.
Not seeing the need
he never brought flowers.

I even asked once. Bring me
a flowering plant - a forget-me-not
out of your garden.
He forgot

and came empty-handed,
sorry, blue-eyed.
I don't need flowers
I said (lied).

He was always leaving.
Once he gave me his cold.
I cherished it, wishing
I had him to hold.

On balance, though
one thing was good:
he told me the truth.
I knew where I stood.

In my green courtyard
for hours, days, years
I stood where I knew,
waiting for flowers.

Helena Nelson

If you've any comments on this poem, Helena Nelson would be pleased to hear from you.