Cornflower BlindOrphaned, I am in your garden
as he busies in your no-more home
adding up your no-more life.
They’re blue Mum,
a vibrant yet subtle shimmering mob
crowding the brick circle your indecision left barren.
Densely sapphire with a hint of lilac
in this desert-feeling unlikely heat
they lollop thirstily, happily.
More me than you, deliberately,
a flouncy girl still trying
to capture your heart.
The man doesn’t see them.
Dictating dimensions, charting chattels,
he is cornflower blind too.
Despite working as a Therapist, nothing prepared Sam for the trauma of both her parents dying during the recent Covid19 lockdown. Passionate about the power of poetry, she wrote to ‘earth her heart’ as she nursed …and lost them. Sam is only just beginning to share her poems and has recently had work accepted for publication by Safe and Sound Press. She lives and works in Hampshire, England. Tweets: @Fictionprescri1
Banner: Blue Cornflowers, a digital image by Robert Frede Kenter