tending the past
your words fading a fragrance
a prayer pigments in primrose
the first death is most difficult
gardenias grow over memories
we tended your garden in grief
gained materials to paint you
the name of your mother
the smell of your clothes
what you said was white
we found a mixture of everything
your name inside of ours
we who have your eyes, your voice
--S.K. McGillis
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