Atlas Ez Poetry

I was born in the month of the Aster

Hearts in the field of morning glories from the start

Pure as the cool autumn wind blowing on that  night in late september

I was raised with a love of bluebonnets so pretty and tempting yet I wasn’t allowed to take one

From the side of the road where we had stopped to take a picture of me

Sitting in them

My mother born of a rose

With hope and love in her heart from the begging

And with each new summer for so long a petal fell off

And then one day miraculously they stopped falling

But the petals can never regrow

The damage is done

My brother born in the month of the lily of the valley

His heart made hard but his smile never fading

His kindness once knew no bounds

But the world crushes the most delicate flowers with ease and without question

Chrysanthemums bloom in the wake of such gracious births such as those of my sister and grandmother

Hopelessly optimistic did my sister be for when all else looked down she looked up

My grandmother with kindness in her heart and joy in her soul never stopped hoping deep down

That things would work out well and until then to be the kindest she can be

I blow on a dandelion and send wishes to whatevers above

To keep all their hearts pure and their petals fine

So that all may know people of character so divine