Can I Take The Forsythia? ‘She Asks In A Small Voice,
Packing And Packing And No It Doesn’t Fit.
Take A Picture Of Yellow And Green And What Has Been,
Stuff It In Your Purse And Wipe Your Eyes With It.
Catch That Tear And Listen Closely,
It Tells A Secret Even Though She Shushes It, Hushes It,
It Runs On And On And Spills Over With Her Memories.
He Doesn’t Know It, But She’s Growing Inside,
In Yellow And Green And What Will Be, You’ll See…
She’ll Take It In The Spring, And Plant It In New Ground.
Her Voice Will Bloom,
A Voice He’ll Hear,
Clear And Fragrant; Hers Alone.
‘I’m Taking The Forsythia! ‘ She’ll Say Firmly,
And Her Tears Will Keep The Secrets