A Lifetime of Geraniums
Geraniums have always been my favorite flowering plant,
with their vibrant burst of colors with warm spicy fragrant scents.
Nostalgic memories of going to my Grandmother’s house in Spring.
Sitting on her sunny porch, her smile as bright as her crimson flowers.
Her house greeted me with scents of fresh brewed coffee and banana bread.
It was our secret that I could have big cups with cinnamon and whipped cream.
She loved to plant flowers and I often helped with her Spring plantings,
enjoying the feeling of my hands and fingers touching the moist, cool soil.
Years passed and my grandmother was buried in our family plot at the cemetery.
I would go there every Spring and plant a variety of red and pink geraniums,
with variegated green leaves, growing upward like hands reaching to the sky.
I admired their red and fuchsia blooms as spring birds sang their melodies.
Over the years I carried on the tradition of planting geraniums in antique urns.
I would plant fuchsia, crimson, and coral colors with variegated leaves,
a peaceful escape from my horrible marriage and world falling apart around me.
I was soon left alone, life felt depressing, I felt lonely and drowning in despair.
I remember that Spring day, it was cold, crisp and windy, I decided to go out.
I admired the trees swaying, their resilient branches strong with tiny buds.
I went to the greenhouse, as I entered, I was greeted with warm, fragrant air.
I followed nostalgic scents to a greenhouse full of fresh geraniums in bloom.
Bright geraniums greeted me in reds, pinks and whites, with variegated leaves.
I felt my Grandmother’s presence, imagining her smiling at me, feeling happy.
I left with a car full of fresh geraniums and with a purpose, to start over.
It’s now time for new beginnings, my spirit feeling lighter, hopeful.
3/12/2021
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Contest: Flower or Flowers in Imagism Form
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