Marigolds

Assembled from scraps of prose:

I wonder about the saints around this time of year.

I wondered about your Mama, about your sisters and your Papa.

I wondered about your house and the marigolds.

I went to the cold church, but I only shivered in the cold pew.  

In there the pews were cold and the air was hard in there.

Marigolds on every year the day means more.

I never really knew you, Salvador.