The Gardner and the Blossom

The Gardner and the Blossom
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BY: Keith H. Seymour
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Writer's note: This poem is dedicated to my mother Particia Ann Seymour( Nee' Bollig)
(Aug 12,2008)
It was just recently, that…
I saw the white azaleas outside,
And thought of…
How dried and dead they looked.
So often like my own life,
Since she left me.
It happened following her special day.
It was almost a year ago,
That I last saw the azaleas outside.

Even alive and mixed
With others of red and pink,
And flowers of marigold,
I would not have been satisfied
When I had seen…
The white azaleas outside.

No gardener could adopt or love
Any flower,
The way that she adopted this flower
With her mixture of love, discipline and affection.
Just as she had done with those
That sprang and blossomed
From her own natural seed.
I recalled how much I missed
Her nurturing element,
When…
I saw the white azaleas outside,

The perfect gardener has ceased to exist,
Still, the spirit that she created
Within this cross-bred blossom
Will always persist.
So I know I see,
The white azaleas…inside
Of me.