Wilted Carnations

Nine yellow carnations are wilting in the vase on the kitchen table.

The remains of twelve flowers.

Yellow was her favorite colour.

Carnations were her favorite.

I took three to the sea,

And threw them in her grave.

Three for the three men she left behind.

Three for the three sisters left behind.

Three for the tricky trio - her blood-sisters - her best friends.

Nine flowers kept for those beloved left behind.

In a few days time I'll throw them on the compost heap,

An undignified end for something so pretty and fragile.

But all things must come to an end, including those we love.