Favourite Flower

She was my favourite flower,
Growing through the gravestones
Leaning crooked in the garden,
Where the ghosts beg the pardon
Of their past.

She was my favourite vessel,
Flailing in the headwind
Leaving salt tears in the billows
Where the past weeps like a willow
Of the sea.

So sail, my only lover.
And out toward the shipwrecks
Whose hulls lay cracked like tombstones
That break, return to nature
And to me.