Forget-Me-Not

A little patch of faded blue Was growing by a garden wall. The tiny blooms barely reached the stones, So easy not to see at all. I knew their name before I knew How small a flower could appear. Forget-me-not, forget-me-not— A wish for someone else to hear. Who gave a flower such a name, A little plea it never made? It grows without remembering The hands that planted it one day. Forget-me-not, The little flowers say. As if a name could hold What time will take away. But memories are changing, Even when we hold them tight. Something can have mattered Without staying in our minds. Forget-me-not, Forget-me-not. We cannot keep Everything we've got. Some memories keep their colours, Some lose the edges of their shape. A voice becomes a way of speaking, A place becomes a name. We often think remembering Means keeping every detail clear. But sometimes what we carry on Is something we no longer hear. The flowers don't recall the spring Or count the seasons passing through. They bloom beside the garden wall While time moves on beyond their view. Forget-me-not, The little flowers say. As if a name could hold What time will take away. But memories are changing, Even when we hold them tight. Something can have mattered Without staying in our minds. Forget-me-not, Forget-me-not. We cannot keep Everything we've got. Perhaps forgetting isn't always The opposite of care. We lose a thousand little things That leave their traces everywhere. And even stories told for years Will change a little as they're told. We cannot keep a moment still By having something we can hold. I wonder if the flowers Would choose another name, If they could grow without the burden Of asking memories to remain. Forget-me-not, The little flowers say. But nothing needs remembering Every single day. Forget-me-not, Forget-me-not. The flowers bloom Whether we remember or not.