Peonies

the garden hose burst
and with it
her peonies,
because they're delicate,
that way.
the petals were carried off
by rivulets and sprays and streams
of water.
since it was raining,
no one else noticed —
they thought the rain
disassembled them...
some thought nothing
at all.
but she knew, because
they were her peonies,
and her mother's,
and her grandmother's,
and a thousand-thousand grandmothers'
before them.
all washed away by rain
or burst garden-hoses —
because they're delicate,
that way.

^{~original poem by me~}