I’ll never see the daffodils again.
They come up only in the spring
And I’ll be somewhere that I hate.

They’ll be a surprise for who lives there
A bonus for fixing up the place -
A victim of benign neglect.

I wonder if the Lilly bulbs will bloom again
Special gift, enjoyed and planted by the wall
Tended well. in hopes of more red glory.

Will the roses thrive under better care
And bloom in cycles all year long
To perfume the air for someone else.

The mouses in the memory bower
Will sleep in peace without their markers
And Poco’s stone will go with us.

How much will change - how much will not
When new eyes glance around the rooms
And measure the back garden.

Will everything be taken down
So shiny new can take it’s place
And relegate its memory to a closet

There is no way that I can know
I’ll have to wait and see and hope
That some small touch of me remains
In walls that warmed me for thirty years.
ljm