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The End of June
October 9, 2016
(It was springtime, nearly summer, the last time
we spent an evening together. Her hands were
soft, trembling slightly; she stood upright, aware
of her posture).
I thought the sunflowers would bloom bright yellow
forever, swaying even in the winter breeze.
(It was almost quiet that evening, the evening I left
for good, only the sound of the rain ruined what
could have been a perfectly cordial goodbye).
I wanted nothing but to die when I could still
feel the flowers around me, growing over and
around my beating heart.
© Eileen M., Milford, CT
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