the flowers grew unruly
almost too natural
for our concrete backyard
some wilted and shrunk
shriveled early
by next morning, dead -
in a cold dew
some twisted upward
and bent, awkwardly reaching
as if the sun
had abandoned them
that summer
as if they knew
the flowers grew in rebellion
brightly they grimaced
as we sat together
on our wooden benches
three
living, now remaining
in the shade of four