Not So Puzzled

The scattered tulips

of the white-haired man

voice kind and soft, unsure,

but eager.

His hands are shaky, confident in his adjustments

I speak up gingerly,

I piece some things together

for both myself and him.

I spoke slowly,

said it's a nice reminder of her

not so long gone,

but still late.

None of us are quite whole

the last thing to do is pretend

that maybe one day,

it'll be the same.

Without the last piece,

a gap is left.

A break in the beauty,

my tulip lost.