Pansies
A Sonnet - After Its Gone
What made me dig the pansies up that day...
Why then? And just as life was inching out
weak sunlight skewed in shafts across the grey
you left the boundaries of my world in doubt.
Your signature struck through our every vow
to sour the snowdrop air, weighed heavy on my boots.
No mention made of floods, then drought or how
our seedlings watered, flourished, put down roots.
Must I divide them with no thought the cost?
those blue-veined buds curled inwards in their nest,
suspended in their shrouds of winter frost.
No. Rather fork it over, turn the rest…
and let it fallow, space to think things through.
An unspoiled gift with room to plant anew.
About the Creator
Stephanie Ginger
Writer, screenwriter, poet, playwright, journalist. I love the drama of life: long, short, on the page or on the screen but always character-driven.
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