writing

🌷 Tulips 🌷

Tulips were his favorite.

I learned this after his death.

Dad plants fresh bulbs each year

By his headstone. It’s what he wanted.

I remember tulips in the yard,

Along the side of their house.

I always thought they were pretty,

But I thought they were for grandma.

Maybe they were for both of them.

I get a bunch now and then

In his memory, then I smile.

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