The Language of Flowers

––For my grandmother

I stand in your kitchen, crying,
and my tears are daffodils.
They bloom wild, yellow,
between the cupboards, in the sink.
I grow them for you because
you are thyme and iris. Dressed
in green strength, purple wisdom.
They are my tribute to you,
and when you embrace me,
I wish I could give you more.

J.C Lockhart is a communications studies major at the University of Texas. She loves hearing other people tell their stories and sharing her own through poetry.