Glenday, John: My Mother’s Favourite Flower

This world is nothing much – it’s mostly
threadworn, tawdry stuff, of next to little use.
 
If only it could bring itself to give us back
a portion of the things we would have fallen
 
for, but always too busy living, overlooked
and missed. So many small things missed.
 
So many brief, important things.
It is my intention never to write about this.