The balcony is aflame with geraniums 
strobing red in the breaking light.
Iron rails dash bars on mottled carpet
stained from spills, falls, the soles of visitors.

The day casts shadows of flowers on the carpet.
Daffodils are folded in their Easter pot, 
neglected, now it's May.
Irises shrivel, peonies droop, 
rose petals, soft mounds on the tabletop.

She casts off her dressing gown,
calls for water.
Her bed rails slash shadows on the wall:
now a crib, a prison, a safety net.

Morning of delayed mourning, 
morning of preemptive mourning.
The consolation of another morning, 
the smile dawning on her face.