You
flowered
in my garden
all winter

no waiting
patiently
for spring

first rose.

You
dared to
be in colour
outside my window
whilst I wore
dark clothes
carried

the dark
from my room
past you

brought
it back daily
unable to

imagine

how you
stay so yellow
or red or purple
or blue when
my moods

flicker
flimsier than
your hardy
petals.

When
I wonder
if your beauty
might adorn
my corpse
you try

to smile

remind me
of hardiness.
Of my god who
loves winter
flowers.

“Creiddylad.”

I speak her name.

“Prima rosa.
Rhosyn gyntaf.
First rose.”

“We endure
Annwn’s darkness,”
she smiles back.
“We endure.”