red roses for who?

they find

in his coat pocket a note

of sorts,

a list

of things,

reminders of what to do.

it's neatly

written in ink

on a yellow page

from the notebook

he kept on his desk.

there are groceries,

milk, bread,

the usual, the mundane

things

to keep us alive,

then there's the oil

change,

the trip to the bank,

a poetry anthology

by a man

named Hughes,

and then a reminder to

buy flowers,

a dozen red roses,

but it doesn't mention

for who.