You used to be so small
You fit into my palm
Like a white lilac
But now
Even as you hurry out the door
I find you’re bigger than even my outstretched hand

The way you stared down
Just shy of my eyes
With hands clawing down your neck
Like a beautiful white peony
That’s when I knew

That’s just like you
I should have known we would meet again
Because as long as I have tears to shed you’re there
A glistening Alchemilla Mollis

But right before I can reach you
That feeling, a Purple Hyacinth
Slots itself between my fingers

And then once again, you are gone
And once again, I have no flowers to describe the feeling you took with you

I guess time really is cyclical that way.

(Companion piece. If you’d like to look into it, the flowers do have meanings)

I suppose I should have known
Because time is cyclical that way

The image of your face returns to me in an instant
I feel a deep warmth arise
Like the sun

I should have guessed that we would meet again
Somewhere or somehow
Because as long as the flowers still grow in the cracks of the parking lot
You are bound to still be breathing

Because time is cyclical that way
Forever and ever
The way my eyes drift
Has been repeated before
Again and again

And of course
When the way your fingers curled
Struck the right chord
And my eyes perceived you in that same way again
Of course
I ran

Because time is cyclical that way.