The stargazer lilies are blooming,
the last thoughtfulness you spared me,
coming to life four years too late.
I'm scared that we will never see
the same germination in our hearts
ever again.
I'm scared that our love wasn't perennial
and bitter winter has killed the root,
with no hope of new green.
I'm scared to rip it out by the root,
afraid I won't find spry clippings to replant.
I'm scared to be left with only soil under my nails
and the dry, dead husk of a love affair
that was never meant to last
past those first golden days
of that long past summer.
