Wildflowers

I was a city girl; you were a country boy,
who lassoed me, with polite yes ma’ams
and not so polite passion.

I traded Dior for blue jeans,
nightlife for starlit nights,
wrapped in your strength.

Instead of diamonds,
you brought me hand harvested,
wildflower bouquets.

Lately, the city’s calling.

I walked up the hill today
to talk it over.

Steadfast, like you,
your stone sits silently,
in a violet sea of swaying lupine.

You’re still bringing wildflowers.

I don’t miss the city
but the skies weep here

and the anguish of the untilled soil,
reflects my own.