One, two, three
untidy dried bouquet
dust like mist on petals
thrust into my hands
with the eargeness of a child
wishing to please
brittle petals, dust like mist
within the heart of the rose
who knows what lives within the heart of a rose
even when faded and dry
mayhap it feels itself still vibrant
as the sun rises and touches it
and the sun, touching such a rose
does it feel a pang?
does it touch gently out of pity or out of love
for the beauty that was
does the sun feel the tremor upon petal and stalk
does it understand at all
the bravery of a faded rose opening to such light?
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