The massacre occurred quietly on a Saturday afternoon.
Sunshine deceived us into the yard.
There, they were, with their tender existence; unnoticed!
Fixing after a long forgotten storm did not take long;
a couple of beers went quickly in between a nail-and-hammer argument.
And all through, there they were, in the corners of a modest rectangular garden.
The massacre occurred quietly on a Saturday afternoon.
The soil remained under my finger nails through Sunday; a stain of a massacre in the name of order.
Myosotis were gone, along with the other unwanted plants; weeds!
Later that afternoon I remembered; Myosotis are also called forget-me-nots!
A tragic irony; forget-me-not!
How a tender existence is lost to the memory of our massacrous hands.
How a tender existence is lost to the memory of our massacrous hands.
