Scarlet gerbera

No leaf, no fern for company
nothing but the bright of this red
stands up to a dim that would engulf me.
 
Moving stands third on a list
of life-stressors, right after a loved one’s 
death, and divorce.
 
Aren’t I too old for this? I’m quite as averse 
to displacement as I am to other tectonic
forces: only two addresses in 25 years.
 
So I plucked the cellophane-wrapped 
bunch of daisies from a pail 
at the supermarket, brought them home
 
and placed them in the vase I hadn’t
packed yet. All week they dazzled
the table before the first one bent
 
its head, petals drooping, almost as though 
sending forth a sigh, if store-bought 
flowers could.

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