the flowers stayed
their place upon
the hallway table

and all that was left
was theirs for
a round moment and

as peacefully as
flowers do
shone to shine they

glowed pink white
yellow (as yellow
is a retraction of gold

in the local paper—)
centre stage
and then pausing in

life, the letting go,
shallow flowers
do deeply flow from

life to death in one go
So they’re
taken by my mother’s

hands and on the out—
side table
potted to rot this spring

(time breezing up limp
leaves)
dark now falling and

not much left of it so
a shopping list
of dead leaves is left

on mum’s outside table
and blown to
the floor once a flower