Spring Was Late This Year, poetry by Doug Stanfield at Spillwords.com
Anthony Young

Spring Was Late This Year

Saying Goodbye

Part XIV

Spring Was Late This Year

written by: Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay)



Spring was late this year.
February and March
lingered almost to May.

The daffodils,
a month late,
just started to bloom
in her last days, even though she
could no longer see them.

And no longer cared.

The timing was exquisite, though,
as though they were waiting,
all rising in honor
as she was walking away.

The Daffodil Lady’s last walk.
“Stand up,” they were told.
“Pay your respects.
She is passing.”

They blazed brightly through the week of
sadness and weeping and goodbyes,
then a few extra days for good measure.

They’re fading in their time.
We move on together.
As it should be.
As she would understand.



This was the last one I was able to write for a while. I had to organize funerals in two states, and then return to an empty house and start coming to terms with what would be almost a year’s project to rebuild my life from scratch. We had been together for 50 years, and there wasn’t a single part of everything around me that did not remind me of her. But I remembered the daffodils, a flower that had a lot of meaning for both of us.

Latest posts by Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay) (see all)

Series Navigation<< Reluctant SpiritSunsets on Mars >>
This publication is part 14 of 20 in the series Saying Goodbye