Of Mum and Chrysanthemums

~I think my heart is still enjoying autumn, even in bright May~

Autumn clusters around my house,
days cooling and shortening
under the candied sunshine of
mid October. I watch
pickled pumpkins on the porch
where there used to be
pots full of chrysanthemums-
long strong stems sticking out and
petals full of rosette whorls--
growing sunny side up
right under the nose
of our kitchen window.
I wonder what became of them--
were they uprooted
'gainst their solemn will or
did they grow barren till
they withered
and died out
away from my eyes
under the yellow haze of
a cold starless night.
I was five
when I saw them last--
puffed up and proud
and just as free-spirited as I was.
I remember sitting on Mum's lap,
my hair combed and braided,
and reciting their spellings for her
over and over
to watch her eyes twinkle
whenever I got them right.
Now, I think of their gleeful ghosts
dancing in the afternoon sun and
watching over with
seed-pod eyes
as I sail off towards my destiny,
against currents so strong
you can smell defeat
in the breath of darkness,
spiraling through the seasons and
adapting to the madness that is life.

Author's Note

I wrote this for mum. We had chrysanthemums in our garden and my mum taught me their spellings back when I was hardly 5, and she remembers that I used to recite them for everyone as a game, so it just felt natural that I should mention that memory in the poem.🧡

Reviews

[Pete]

clever. very sweet and enjoyable read. i find beauty in all seasons but autumn is probably my favorite. this is a very beautiful and endearing write. i like the way you've so skillfully woven childhood remembrance into the season along with a tribute to "mum" and a philosophic ending. well done ... :)

[.]

Such a descriptive poem here, Moonie! Chrysanthemums.....now that was always a tricky word to spell! Well done, you, for getting it correct at such a young age! Beautiful flower, too! Your lines here are brilliantly described; the memory in your mind leaving a well crafted impression on the page that reads very lovely to the reader. It's always sad to see such things of beauty wilt and fade, but we can't beat Father Time, can we? Your longing for the simplicity of the past is very well contrasted with the complexity of an unknown destiny and that is something that we can all relate to. It's a lovely poem and one that deserves more readership. Much enjoyed, this one!