Pink petals

26maart14 003

The scent of pink petals is hanging in the room:
with my eyes closed I’m with you in that flower shop,
years ago but the flowers smell the same as then,
to get something nice but cheap for a funeral –
we didn’t really know the deceased very well
who was in his eighties when he died in his sleep,
we only knew that he liked flowers very much.

We ended up spending our money on roses
and on those flowers we didn’t know what to call.
We almost forgot to dress in black. The graveyard
never smelt so grand and fine that I remember.
Memories last longer than flowers in water.
For ever: a kind old man behind his window,
waving, when I smell those pink flowers in the room.

Comments on: "Pink petals" (12)

  1. Ina, I love how you have combined pathos and kindness in a magical memory…a very moving and lovely poem.

  2. The smell of pink flowers brings back the old man waving in the window…that’s nice, I. I think we’ve marveled before, at the power of smell to jog memory…….

  3. A lovely gentle melancholy reflection. Smells and music I think are the strongest memory-joggers, for me, anyway. L&H xx

  4. Widow Beach said:

    So very beautiful.

  5. Very touched by this, very much. Well, I made it to the last poem posted…two beers worth and I’ve enjoyed every post…it’s been like reading a book of your heart and mind and has been a lovely Ina evening…thank you…

  6. A beautiful gentle memory. Lovely as always

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