Those Small Yellow Flowers

When we mourn for what WAS, we forget to celebrate what IS.

A beautiful day beckons but I don’t see it

Instead I sit in dark, clouds hovering,

showering misery and thoughts of

other times, other people

things I can’t forget, or change

I think of rolling hills, ‘roo’s fighting 
the changing hue of grass and land

the dryness, the drought colours

the isolation of that place compared

to my busy city life

I followed the need to leave

and now don’t understand 

the need to return that arises

every time I think I might just

like it where my feet now rest

amongst small yellow flowers

Is contentment a state we, in truth, abhor?

That we strive to attain

but once it comes, is thrown to the winds

because we want more?

I have spent many days wishing

I could go back and fight harder

Rise above what drove me out

but I am here in a black hole 

remembering and mourning

And then ... I think of him, 

the one who made my heart glow

Who talked and listened,

turning me around with his rawness

The one I can’t live without

and I know it makes this misery okay because

I’d miss him so much, 

it would be like a knife

driven through that glowing heart

So I glance out the window and see

rolling hills, trees thriving after rain

grass so green and lush, it is breathtaking

and those small yellow flowers ...

... tiny kittens running and playing

The identical chicks who

cheep and twitter under attentive hens

Our little dog who lives for attention and love

And I realise that life is what you make it;

that I need this mourning 

so that the next morning

of the next beautiful day

I will shine like those small yellow flowers