Primroses

 My father, at age 83 and walking with a walker

asked my sister to stop at the garden center 

so he could pick out three primrose plants--

one deep yellow, one indigo, and one of the brightest rose.

With my sister's help he planted them by his garden gate

where he would see them every time he looked out the window.

He did not get to see the flowers the following spring;

he rested with them beneath the winter's snow.

The primroses returned to bloom and bloom again

and Dad's memory, like those bright flowers

shines each time I see a primrose

blooming by a garden gate.