I planted a rose in memory of you,
my hands worked the earth
tilling soil,
forgetting what they were doing
as teardrops fell.

The sun seemed too bright that day,
fresh roots prepared to anchor
in earth too perfect,
leaves too bright and thirsty
not withered like me.

Sad silver urn protecting remnants of you
surely that is not all that remains
a hand full of ashes,
"ashes to ashes, dust to dust"
has never rang so true.

I fertilize the graying soil with your ashes
planting white roses above you
thorns ***** my skin, I bleed,
me mixed with you
in the soil.

Today, a year from then, Winter is here,
looking out from my kitchen window
I see white flowers in bloom,
a tear escapes my eye
you in full blossom,
once more here with me.