Dear Mom,
Do you remember the flowers you bought me for $1.99, that time you came
to keep me company after my operation?
They were so anemic-looking then.
Dried up and weedy, and not a bud in sight.
It was difficult to imagine they'd one day turn beautiful,
but you told me they'd come back, so I believed you.
We planted them in rows, watered them, then had tea on the balcony,
listening to wind in the leaves.
Now, they've hitched themselves to the sun.
Delicate petals of yellow and purple,
tilting at blue skies and fluffy clouds.
I see them and think of you,
even though we are provinces apart.
