Time moves in one direction memory another,

I’m watching light slowly cross a pavement

reminding me of a man whose walk took longer each day,

how he’d stop at each garden on the road

wanting to reveal every flower to you by name;

the camelia, primrose and peonies,

the rising tulips and climbing morning glories,

the sun pulling back shadow, slow and steady,

he wanted to teach you only how beautiful the world is.

So rare, it’s out of time, to operate without agenda,

to live without judgement to want only what’s best for others,

truly there’s more strength in being gentle and kind

than any other resolve,

and with hands as tender as the breeze

he’d thumb a flower's petal

to induce the marvel of it’s scent,

ever curious and married to amazement,

like the bees amongst the lilacs

like the sunlight across the crooked pavement

he embraced the world with measured care,

bringing splendour to the ordinary

embodying a sense of hope

ensuring our belief that even dull grieving winters

can change in a breeze and a sudden burst of blossom.