As the sun pierces the winter haze
She finds blooming marigold all around her
Her eyes though on the newspaper’s page
Her mind drifts elsewhere.

Last February the gardener was here
Tilling the soil’s fertile reach
Chiseling each flower to joyfully share
The garden this Feb is so bountifully rich.

The silken sun gives her shiver of loneliness
Each marigold showers shadow upon her
The flowers bloom without the gardener’s embrace
Last February never seemed so distantly far.