My father would ask

Sitting there all alone

Either withering

Or artificial…

They only serve to

Make the placer feel better

And are a show piece

That they were there…

Whether delivered by guilt

Or love is never really the point

You can knock but no one

Answers…

You can talk but again

No one speaks

You come to find answers

You’ll never get or

Never hear…

Why?

They aren’t there…