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Summer Is Dying; Bowl of Black Petunias by Michael Lee Johnson

Summer is Dying

Outside, summer is dying into fall,

and blue daddy petunias sprout ears—

hear the beginning of night chills.

In their yellow window box,

they cuddle up and fear death together.

The balcony sliding door

is poorly insulated, and a cold draft

creeps into all the spare rooms.

Bowl of Black Petunias

If you must leave me, please

leave me for something special,

like a beautiful bowl of black petunias—

for when the memories leak

and cracks appear

and old memories fade,

flowers rebuff bloom,

sidewalks fester weeds

and we both lie down

separately from each other

for the very last time.


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