Flowers in Her Hair

I hope there’s flowers in her hair

a wild wind mingling with root and rose

laughter in her voice from sun on her nose.

I hope she takes those little petals

places them down as silken white bookmarks

in those poetry books we read when apart.

I hope she’s somewhere out there now

tracing the tender trenches of her pillow

left void and open by an equally broke heart.

I hope she finds me

or maybe she won’t,

but all the same…

I hope there’s flowers in her hair.