In the distance I watched, remembering the past,
Working with her flowers age caught her at last.
Many tears she has cried, it has been so long ago,
Grieving still for her man, her life, her soul.
Her flowers will wilt and die, slowly fade away,
They will be a lost memory, a time of yesterday.
Forgotten till the spring travels through again,
Planted and tended a cycle to never end.
Unlike the flowers of the spring, her love is gone,
Only their time together, memories linger on.
If only she could forget, but their love so true,
Tears from her eyes as she whispers I still love you,
© Cynthia Clark