She walked out into a field of flowers that spelled Danielle,
Someone who passed away not too long ago - her friend,
The April shower made the green sweatshirt,
cling to her in the mess of tulips
she was in. One by one she cut them with scissors,
and then picked them up out of the dirt with a spoonula.
The flowers that were carried by the spoonula,
that were cut by the scissors,
and the arms of the woman carrying the tulips,
rested safely against the green sweatshirt.
The same flowers that represented her friend,
that would soon be placed gracefully by the tombstone named Danielle.
She placed the soaked green sweatshirt,
on the floor along with the dirt filled spoonula.
The basket by the door held the tulips,
for the deceased Danielle.
The person she called her friend,
the flowers for her cut by the scissors.
The muddy old scissors,
sat on the rug and the sweatshirt,
dripping on the floor, and her friends
flowers being held by the spoonula.
The one for Danielle,
whose favorite flowers were tulips.
She gathered the tulips.
Her back pocket safely held the scissors.
On the floor lay the forgotten green sweatshirt,
along with the dirty old spoonula.
She walked along the cobblestone path to her friend,
across the bridge to find the tombstone engraved Danielle.
Laying the flowers down for her friend,
on the memorial filled with tulips,
that she carried home with her spoonula.
The same tulips that were cut by the muddy scissors,
that now rest in her pocket, the wet green sweatshirt,
still lay forgotten on the floor, all of this for her beloved friend Danielle.
At home she washed the spoonula along with the scissors.
She thought about the tulips for her friend.
While washing the soaked green sweatshirt that was once Danielle’s.
