He picked the purple pansies
alongside the ones i had.
Lifted the cane basket and
took them inside.
The purple scent reminded
me of the warm day we had shared.
He stood and placed a fresh flower
and stretched it out to its full extent
on the page of a dictionary,
chosen not for the quality of its text
but the weight of its pages.
My father collected many flower heads
like this. Why he did this I do not know.
Now and then I find these flowers like
bookmarks marking a page just read
and I remember a warm happy day of
summer flowers.
