GREY

Your words preceded you,
mother, paving the
path you took towards me,
scalding the soles of
your feet, singeing the grass,
bleeding black into the
ground and staining your
prized blooms grey. It is your
own garden you blighted.

Wisteria withered,
peonies perished,
geraniums gave up the ghost,
rose roots rotted away.

The grey lilies alone live.
These, my hands
now tend and lay each year
upon your grave,
grey lilies.....lilies grey,
their perfume sequestered
in dense greyness
the Summer sun could not
dissipate. No, they do
not smile, and nod rather
hesitantly in the breeze.

Like dull metal lances they
rest upon beige stone,
denuded of anthers and
foliage, just as you liked them.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: rebloggy.com
Artist: John William Waterhouse