Yellow Flowers

I can't stop writing, so I am going to try to write a poem a day this month also.

Yellow Flowers

I saw flowers in my grandmother’s garden,

perhaps they were not flowers,

maybe they were candy, my childhood,

yellow memories, lips, time,

little piles of light, echoes of the sun

immersed in darkness, golden orioles perching  

in the air or on the stems;

I saw flowers and possibly not flowers,

Perchance it was my grandmother,

my grandmother in yellow,

in multiple portraits,
portraits in the petals.