bougainvillea and a faded rose
My husband arrived with Easter flowers
Plucked from our yard when the florists closed;
They sit on a gilded, oaken prayer rail,
Some bougainvillea and a faded rose.
There is no glorious romantic gesture,
Expensive or expansively bestowed
That can compare with this simple offering
Of bougainvillea and a faded rose.
Our world has turned small and insulated,
And life is fleeting, as everyone knows,
So I will treasure each precious moment
Like bougainvillea and a faded rose.
Liz McFadzean
Monday is my 46th wedding anniversary. That’s right…46 years married to the same man. I used to think that people who celebrated their golden anniversaries were ancient. Four more years and I join their ranks. Only one of us has white hair, but we both still walk and swim and keep up with five very active grandchildren. Our doctor says that we are much younger than our chronology indicates.
Still, in the days of COVID 19, I feel our generation is squarely in the crosshairs of the pandemic. So when Easter rolled around, I didn’t expect any store-bought bouquets. Instead my husband walked around our yard and surprised me with whatever he could find to fill vases. I wanted to return the sweet gesture by writing a little love song, sans music. The lyrics that I wrote aren’t Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning or even Gershwin. But they are heartfelt.
Happy Anniversary, David!
