If you think of me in the spring,
think of dogwood petals
in my hair, greener grass
and new beginnings.
If the summer solstice
finds you walking alone
in the garden of the moon,
remember that I'm somewhere
walking alone, too.
If you sing of me,
sing in the fall
in blue flannel and jeans
like the saddest song of all.
And if I pretend to die,
and you pretend to weep,
I promise to do it in the winter
when there are no flowers
to send in your pretended grief.