Gardenias Reminding Me
The sun was brightly shining
the morning when he left.
Gardenias reminding me,
of my father’s death.
I was about a child of four,
when sirens rang in war.
Though fifty years, not rid of tears
the charge of distant fears.
How mother’s heart was weeping,
the day the message gave.
In requiem guns were singing;
white flowers on his grave.
Remembering the day his eyes
first flickered into light.
Feeling all his human cries;
so glad in his delight.
Man, here, not contented.
Again the sirens rang.
With arms a-well presented,
his bugle proudly sang.
The sun was brightly shining
the morning when he left.
Gardenias reminding me,
of my baby’s death.
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