My lovely marigold,
With orange blooms,
In the mist of summer
I found you, hiding
Beneath the shade
Of a great oak
As the waves of wind
Spoke in sonnets
And stirred the tall grass.

It was so easy to find you then.
But now you hide
Beneath cold stones,
Letting your roots grow
Without me.

Still, I’ll wait
Against the trunk
Until sunset
Falls asleep to the breeze,
Hoping to wake
Curled in your arms
While the last stars
Flicker above.