Peonies

the garden hose burst and with it her peonies, because they're delicate, that way. the petals were carried off by rivulets and sprays and streams of water. since it was raining, no one else noticed — they thought the rain disassembled them... some thought nothing at all. but she knew, because they were her peonies, and her mother's, and her grandmother's, and a thousand-thousand grandmothers' before them. all washed away by rain or burst garden-hoses — because they're delicate, that way.

^{~original poem by me~}