by Luis G. Dato

Here are the plants one day you left behind,
The potted eleucaria, weeds that yet
Attest the far-off day when we first met,
That waterless in absence for you pined,
Your bougainvillea that has since entwined
And framed your doors. Forgotten, they forget
You not — their flowers with evening’s tears are wet,
Because they know you had not them in mind.

And so do I, I know that far away
From here, your heart was farther yet from me,
To you the close, the setting of each day
Brought not of me one thought in memory,
But like your plants forgotten, love shall stay,
O God, grant it to live a century!

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