Three Pink Roses

-for my mother, Anita

I picked these long-stemmed pink roses

Turning each branch three times

Checking for its best side before I cut

Each stalk trimmed to perfection

The thorned rubbed off

A tiny white plump spider dislodged

From this bouquet, the best that I have got

I took care to smell the opened petals they were sweet

Now I have a five year old firstborn, bright as a July day

Who prints her name with your old letter press set

A special set of wooden stamps you let me first use as a child

You printed Anita Janice there in Nineteen-twenty-eight

She has added her Olivia Jane below your own

On the inside of the 64 year old cardboard lid

Anita and Olivia, today I watched you walk away together

Up the ramp, off the ferry Rhododendron

Roses in hand, a seamless branch between generations

One thought on “Three Pink Roses

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