When I lost you

The garden you left behind

Became my own.

For many springs

They flourished and grew.

The sunlight became our beacon.

Towards the sky we gravitated

And grew past the shade

Of the surrounding oaks.

Their vivid colors

Became my own

As the majority reflected my mood.

The reds came first

With the ache of the moment

And the frustration of your departure.

The blues matched the violet

In size and there came

The realization of my situation.

When those wilted

The white drew all the attention.

My expression and thoughts drawn a blank.

With the coming spring

I'm hopeful to be greeted by another.

A color to outshine the previous rest.

A new red.