Sunday, March 19, 2006

petite fleur

on sundays, grandma comes to visit
you shy away, hang on tightly
as if afraid a gust of wind would blow you away

it takes some time for you to warm
then you’re ready
your arms reach out like petals extending to the sun

and she giggles in the sweet fragrance
which is our petite fleur
every sunday, it is the same refrain
take care of petite fleur
hold her tight
protect from harm
she is a gentle-lady

grandma looks at me with lines in her face
tired eyes which tell me that she is fast fading
I can’t bear to look

as if reading my thoughts
she reminds me again to prepare her will
in case she conks off
this I have been putting off

I laugh off her anxiety
as you hang on to me
I hang on to her
as she hangs on to you
our petite fleur