Trying to Write a Happy Poem

By Jessica Jordan

I could write about the flowers that bloom 
in front of my parents' white shed.
But then I think about how each year 
when the weather gets colder, 
and the nights get darker, those same flowers
that bloomed bright yellows, pinks, and purples
become shriveled stems of brown,
and piles of crisp broken leaves and petals 
gather around the bottom of their flowerpot grave.