For Cee’s FOTD
Click on flowers to enlarge photos.
Who dares to press a flower to one meaning?
When one is in love, every flower is full of passion.
When love dies, each flower listens to your grief.
They pick up your thoughts by some telepathy,
soak up meaning through the air,
are watered by your grief or joy.
Hope, regrets, solitude?
Flowers do not signify.
Flowers only serve as balm.
Any flower head in a baby’s fist, held out to her mother.
Hibiscus petals strewn across a reunion table,
rose petals on a marriage bed.
When I die, do not look for the me in the roses
blanketing my grave or the bougainvillea
fallen to the ground in which I lie.
Look for me in the blue thunbergia,
hearty and profuse and growing ever upward,
insisting on being seen. Me, here! Me.
To read another poem on the significance of flowers and memory, go HERE.
The thunbergia seem to be advancing on the back yard. If the bougainvillea can’t defend themselves, then so be it. I love the lushness and the contrast between the two.
For Cee’s FOTD.
I just found this photo taken shortly before I left Mexico ten days ago on my computer desk top. I can’t seem to keep this little creeper in its place. It has spread to pretty much every part of my property, even from front to back yard and now seems to want to take over the garage (not to mention my computer). I must admit I don’t do much to try to contain this unruly guest as I love its determination and the fact that I also love its little blooms contributes to my permissive attitude.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day prompt.
Click on photo to enlarge.
For Cee’s daily Flower Prompt