It was one spring

It was one spring

That I sat in the garden watching
the quiet splashed-red dandelions
green scents of soft sweetness mixed
with the acrid smells of blood

I wiped a dirtied sweatrag
upon my bleeding knee and
great swathes of crimson changed
pale complexion to full hues

Time did not stop the flow
and, upon a fit of fear I
licked quickly at the cut, Red
swimming pools to darkened dew.

I hobbled back into my house
close upon our garden's gate
Mother's intent on stirring soup
immediately charged with fear

Quickly she rushed towards me
So fast, in my defense up
came hands in fool's worry. Only
offered from her hand, a bandage.

Tears fell from my itchy eyes.
Somewhere in her face I saw
hope and recognition of her own
youthful spring, clocked past gone.