Day Lilies

I have a garden of lilies
I collect them so it seems.
Like some people collect stamps.
In memory for each lost
part of me,
one for Dad
One for Mom
Four for my handsome brothers
One for my sweet sister.
Unlike those they remember
They ask nothing of me
No emergencies or
wake up calls in the night.
No broken hearts.
Hardy against the
harsh winter
Resistant to the sun
of midsummer.
They proliferate
and never fail
to grow and flower.
Asking only for a little water
In dry spells
Even then in their thirst
barely ruffling a leaf
to catch my attention.
Sometimes
the morning dew
collects on the new blooms
but it may be my tears.