Joshua Flores

Mari's Marigolds

Birds sing, trees rustle, wind blows through woods and valleys alike. Though to me it all seems dull. The song sounds crass, the rustle sounds restless, the wind feels harsh against my skin. I am numb, impossible to feel, impossible to enjoy the offerings of spring without shedding tears of sadness and loss. Tears that well up in my eyes before falling in gushes down my cheeks unable to be restrained or have time to wipe them away before more follow after in torrents and streams. She’s gone.