A Mother’s Day Orchid

The purple orchid I bought you in May
has long since dried up and died.

The peas you planted in its yellow ceramic pot
fared no better.

Here I sit considering the lost orchid
feeling the coolness of the smooth wooden floor.

Let’s throw out the stale gray soil from the pot
wash it out, dry it off.

We’ll set it upon the mantel
above the fireplace that we no longer use

Then fill the yellow pot full of pennies
that will clatter through our fingers with the sound of prosperity

Pennies we can cast out for our children
across the back porch

Although the cement is cracked
And uneven.

Let them think
that they are the richest children in the world.

Let’s do it
just to hear them laugh and giggle.

I swear you won’t regret it
fifty years from now

When you’ll still find that laughter
ringing in your ears

Ringing like the raining of rain
that waters a purple orchid deep in the forest.