four sets of arms wrap around me.

it had been quiet, peaceful.

no pain.

in her sleep.

the choked-up voices of my children fill my ears.

i rock back and forth on the cushion-like grass,

diamond tears leaking from the corners of my eyes,

running through what mirasol and munhae called my laugh lines.

i clutch the bouquet in my hands,

staring into the seeded center of the sunflower,

watching the saltwater stream off its petals.

i kiss the sunflower,

gazing the mound of fresh, aromatic earth,

the summer air teasing my hair

like her hands.

munyoung's shoulders are shaking

but no one speaks.

i drop the rose onto yuzuki's  grave,

a single liquid drop of my pain following after,

then i tuck the sunflower into the breast pocket

of my early-morning cloud pink suit,

keeping her yellow with me even as i leave the cemetery.