for Emma
Having given up
the charade of
freshness, of
forecasting Spring,
long-stemmed
mauve tulips
sagged, their
wide heads hung
over the side of the
proud little vase,
nearly touching
the cool marble
table, seeking
release.
“You pansies,”
I laughed,
wondering whether
to grab my camera
or pen. I checked
the light coming in.
Beside the beaten
blossoms,
an unopened
heart-shaped tin,
held foil-covered
Ferraro chocolates.
This gift from tender
teenaged hands --
glistened
with promise.
