You don’t remember
what green means,
fresh and bursting
from snow fed mud.
What first blades
can teach you
after many months
of monochrome grey.
You have become unyielding
like the dry husks
of milkweed, shedding
silver strands of fall
while you lie dormant
dreaming of monarchs.
For you I will paint
nothing but flowers
until color returns
to your face and you
remember how to open
to the sun before
true birth of leaves.
I will paint you nothing but flowers
until you remember how to bloom.
March 27, 2023