A Lonely Dried Arrangement

The flower’s long dead
in the windowsill
But I leave it there
anyway.
A lonely dried arrangement
Stuck into the hole
between the centuries old brick
and the metal window frame
By my five-year-old daughter
as a present at the start of Spring.
It has survived hot summer days
drenching rains and winds
That could have blown any other flower
away.
And even though its fragrance is gone
its petals crumpled, faded
It remains in the crack in the wall –
a reminder
That all things bloom and die
but it’s the memories
Of their existence that linger
like hope for tomorrow’s flowers –
Daughters and Sons.