Monday, February 03, 2014

The Memory of Our Massacrous Hands!

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.