Wildflowers Unsown

Just weeds grew there now. 

He wandered over to the side of the yard where wildflowers used to grow. But, no flowers were growing this year. She was gone. So, he had lost all interest in his flower garden. A stray daisy or two tried to sprout, but since he did not water the patch or fertilize it, the ground had become hard and crusty, in the heat of the early summer sun.

He had planted it for her.

She loved wildflowers. That fall she mentioned, in passing, that she loved them. So, early next Spring, at the end of March, he dug, de-stoned, sifted, fertilized and planted. In a four foot by six foot patch, he planted almost two dozen packets of wildflower seeds. Planted would be a stretch. He sprinkled the seeds with love, with wishes, with hope. He carefully sprinkled a layer of topsoil over the seeds. He watered them with love, as needed. He watched the flowers blossom from his kitchen window. When she came over, they sat at the window and would watch their progress. And their love blossomed, too.

As Summer arrived and the wildflowers radiated glorious colors and scents, so did their love. Their love grew, and they grew together and intertwined like the wildflowers, touching, embracing. The brilliant display of color mirrored the glory of their love. They had exploded in a rainbow of color, as the summer wore on: rich reds, oranges, and yellows of Poppies, Indian Blanket, Red Flax and others, to the bright blues and soft lavenders of Bachelor Buttons, Blue Flax, Lupine, and Chinese Houses. He tended the wildflower patch, just as he tended to the garden of their love.

But late in the Summer, at the beginning of Autumn, she went to visit her family and something happened. She never returned. He had never found out exactly where she lived and did not have her family’s address or phone number. Her phone number was disconnected. He searched for her, but he never found her; she was gone.

So this Spring, the patch was untended, un-watered, unfertilized, and unloved. He wandered through the patch and wondered where she was.


Flower seeds,
gone unsown.
Flower’s pollen,
gone unblown.
Stem and petals,
gone ungrown.
gone unknown.
Bouquet I’d send her,
gone unshown.
Love I’d give her,
gone unknown.

© 2013 ajwrites57

A Long

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