I Whispered to the Flower 

I whispered to the flower,
sharing memories about the moon.
She would gasp at my words,
and I’d start to stir with a smile.

I told her what we used to do,
how he listened to my thoughts,
and how he saw me in the dark
when no one else was awake.

I told her how he told me secrets
of things he knew,
and I told her how I missed him
when he wasn’t here.

How he came in phases
that could take days,
and how he wasn’t always whole—
sometimes he was only half.

And when he was,
I tried my best to make him laugh.

So I whispered to the flower
all these good things,
knowing well that the moon
could see and hear me.

Hoping to see him smile tonight,
hoping the kind words
brought him light.