1994

Nothing was more important than finding
the perfect yellow rose
in grandma and grandpa's backyard.
"This one grandma!" I would yell with my
four year old lungs and my long blond hair blowing in my face.
Those were my favorite times.
I still searched for the perfect yellow rose during our visits with grandpa after grandma died.
"This one mom." I said many years later with my
10 year old lungs and my long blond hair
blowing in my face.
Now they're both gone and their house
is someone else's home.
Somehow I know that there is still
an enthusiastic young girl, with her long hair
blowing in her face, searching for
the perfect yellow rose.