Flowers for My Father

The Plumerias continue growing
without my father here to keep them.

The Jasmine are still fragrant
though he’s no longer here to smell them. 

The weeds that I potted
become beautiful flowers because
my father taught me to appreciate a flower,
no matter what we name them. 

“Flowers for My Father,” A poem by J.E.DiPalo
Photos by J.E.DiPalo

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