Words are for those with promises to keep. — W.H. Auden br br I promised her the garden's glory: br marigold's monarchal blooms, br ageratum's lavender fuzz, the br grainy beards of coxcombs' plumes; br sturdy zinnias, salvia's flames, br snapdragons, and tiger lilies: raw br cuttings from home to grace a stone br in final, promissory awe. br br Crystal-needled frost struck and drained br the promised flowers brown; left them br in rows of shriveled heads to nod br on gallows of each blackened stem. br I bought chrysanthemums and filled br her navy vase with bronze and gold br clusters to decorate the grave— br my quaking hand let slip its hold. br br The vase discharged against a stone br and shattered, as if the cobalt night br had cracked again: the fragments gemmed br my gold bouquet with bluish light. br The flowers lost—love left unsaid— br planted in my repentant sleep br the seeds to start a garden of words br where love and promises will keep. br br br (Re-worded published in 'The Lyric.' Fall,2012. br Earlier versions appeared in 'Owl Light, and br 'Poems: New & Used.