Geneva Lorrain

Lavender
by Geneva Lorrain

You found some lavender in a field of green
that stayed in your memory
as did the scents of that summer day
so long ago.
They were left over patches
that escaped from the neat rows
from the farmer's field.
You wondered if they would ever be harvested too.
Would they stay and live out their lives unmolested
or would they be gathered
by someone to be put into the kitchen
window of the house on the hill?
You tell me this ...
as you lay in your bed.
You look outside at the sheets of ice forming
over your window
and sigh.

The person in the bed is in his or her last illness. They are remembering the summer of their last years when they could see the colors of life and smell the seasons. The memories of the person in the last illness remembers life as the ice of death is slowly forming over the end of life.
The person is also wondering what will happen to the soul once it leaves. Will there be life afterwards? No one can tell until it happens. We all have to wait and see.