Maya Knows of Flowers

New Smoke tingles the tongue.
She left too soon from flowers once in bloom.
Playing games in the dark.

Liquor laughing its ways
Calling him forth from southern winds
Playing in the meadow
till darkest arrives.

Falling last in the smoke
Below the rotting stones,
But remembering softly
of the flowers once in bloom.

© 1983 Sonja J. Phinney (from book: Disconnected Steps)