![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20ktTkTm74pNix9Zx-fW6w3TyqX-CMWv4s0h0jZveACir-cIr2InC2V9DH8vimRs6-RKqqIFBNPwFfGf3m-5VhEtRltkgZuGKzIrgrW726A0Dxmlf6K9ftYkfLXnlmvG_ASQcA1Owzw/s400/1green+dahlia.jpg)
would she have made
illuminated flowers
to brighten hearts
overwhelmed with dark and loss;
special combinations --
perhaps a dahlia,
and a rose --
that could, at the touch of an empty hand,
irradiate a soul,
turn the dark blood reds
to a deep spruce,
trees of joy to breathe light
into the somber shadows;
sunshine to light a fire
in a cold and lifeless hearth;
color to illuminate the corners
of the newly emptied room
where, having found one missing shoe
a mother clasps it to her chest,
weeping.
* * *
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