flowers, painting fields
just to wilt away with the cold
but to always return

adorning the homes with white picket fences
ones you once drew as a kid
when innocence filled your eyes
just to fade away with time

flowers, an act of forgiveness
or condolences
to grace the grave
and make up for mistakes

they fill up the ground where hope no longer grows
bringing what little life they have to offer
and what little color they have to show
through decades of growth

they rot in vases
they wilted in cold hands
turning dark brown
the life they once had drained out

but let's hope these flowers grow back
to return what little color we have in our lives
to show us, that growth takes time