Lost are the flowers

By Dick Weinman

Lost Are The Flowers

‘Where have all the flowers gone?’

Lost, lost.  In the dark maze, lost:

In the gnarls and twists, the deformed limbs of her mind’s forest,

Trapped in the twining ivy up from the ground,

Clinging to the pathways to the mind,

Choking the channels, the roads.

The mind overcome by weeds, stumps, wet, heavy leaves,

Covered with dirt; muddy, dark dirt,

Blocking all vestiges light and memory.

So, ‘where have all the flowers gone?’

They’re within you.

Nourish them.  Give them light.

And from flowers will come that life that has gone,

The  person whose person is no more,

A flower of remembrance,

Tucked deep in memory.

She will touch you forever.

And live forever.