the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen
often hid behind wrinkled bags of skin
they belonged to my darling Elva
who loved flowers and family
in her disease, she was always concerned about the well being of her garden
sometimes, she cried out for her mother
she was eighty seven
and although she is gone
when I look up at the summer sky
I can see the color of her irises and
I know she is up there in her garden
and I can imagine her mother is too