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She loved lilies, her cowboy,
a good laugh, and every shade of green—
lived many years without him,
now in bones beside him
with the river’s melody
beneath them both, serene.
March 20, the first buzz of spring—
Spring—like the trumpeting of lilies,
cherry blossoms, birthdays,
and new spring green, only lasts so long—
but like an Irish ballad, or an old Welsh song
sung from memory—
the missing her goes on,
evergreen.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner