Was it the yellow of your bright petals
or the way you danced in the breeze
that I brought you home from fields?
Was it the strength of your upright stalks
or the camaraderie, your solidarity?
There in the sun you sang hope -
songs that filled a mourning heart.
There in the wind you whispered
plaintive farewells on conflicted air.
Fill this grieving with consolation
(outside my bedroom window lay
this lush bed of leaf and bloom)
Here in season this heart remind;
morning greetings, eloquent sway.
Your grace betrays rich folly of war.