Bouquet Of Friends

Envisioning my friends 

As a handful of flowers, 

Each one pulled from a different field, 

A different rain, 

A different light.

None of them planted together. 

None of them meaning to be 

What they are when gathered—

This one, deep violet, stubborn in drought. 

This one, pale as morning, opening slow. 

This one, all gold, catching every light. 

This one, quiet stem, holding the others upright.

All of them leaning in, 

Relying on each other.

and yet.

Tomorrow the arrangement shifts. 

Someone blooms past what I knew. 

Someone wilts. 

Someone is gone before I think to look.

But today— 

This bouquet, 

Breathlessly, 

Held to my heart.

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