I cannot recall its name
tiny blooms almost all the year
spreading on the path.
I rarely use this door,
enter by the back,
leaving the car in the garage
and bolt the garden gate.
Fading paint hangs in blisters
sort of green at one time,
one time long a go, a half full tin
reminds me of the green as once it was.
brush thrown on the floor, caked hard;
but no I'll not paint the gate . . .
not this year.
More important, the name of this tiny flower
It will come to me one day, I can wait.
I first met this gem on the lab steps
I was in my twenties, a student,
I am older now yet remain a student.
the jig saw incomplete
but there's time to find the name
'til then and when and sometime
I shall watch and look and listen.