Into the Garden

Alone in my thoughts, alone in the dark night.

A blue whale traveling in the deep blue abyss

is calling out in a      frequency,

frequently ignored,                     on a sun’s penultimate

night, with the moon in attendance to our story.

 

I’m used to this quiet navy moonlight,

I know it well             like I know the maroon bricks of your house,

but I also know your voice well,         and god        will I miss it,

dancing with the sweet sound from your sapphire guitar,

singing my name to an audience of fresh flowers.

 

I look out the window to the garden we used to live in,

looking for answers              in white tulips and yellow sunflowers.

I ask the flowers how to ease the pain          of something grander than me,

and the flowers just look towards the royal midnight,         where

you told me you could see blue whales in the constellations.

The sun is shining and somewhere it is raining and someone’s falling in love and someone’s   

                    dying,

but where do I fit into this?

Bright colored flowers illuminate the night

amid freshly bloomed flowers       dancing in the moonlight.

They’ll miss your light.

 

As the stars blossom, I ask each of them for their secrets,

but no matter the song they hear,          their petals

stay closed,          and the moon

watches the incomplete dance,

while the sun         leaves.

 

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