Pouches of pink lady slippers
daintily bob about stoic stalks
of neon white trillium
beneath a barren window box
father crafted
from his Papa's wooden tool chest,
painted beige,
now cracked and gray.
She eyed it every which way.
Her crooked smile hung upside down.
Mother couldn't right her happy frown.
Clusters of lilacs,
fragrant splashing hues
of buttons on bulging cones,
adorn a canopy over by the black shed,
peeled and warped by winters of neglect.
He planted each bush
with roots scrounged
from the abandoned school yard of yesterday.
She had eyed it every which way.
Her crooked smile hung upside down.
Mother couldn't right her happy frown.
Freckled leopard lilies,
rise ethereal, huddled 'neath
heavy white heads of hydrangea,
above the flat headstone
bearing her name.
Sweat mingling with tears,
the selfless gardener with spade
moves dirt in her shade.
He eyed it every which way
and remembered how her smile
always hung upside down.
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