To think the bouquet slipped
beneath the current,
committed to a stream
fast forgetting
as their faint aroma dies softly
in hopeful blossoms,
rather than within the lungs of
their beautiful intended.
I watched them slip between
yellow boughs stooped low,
hopeful to glean but one
splendid petal
among glistening river stones
upon which danced a splash of crimson
farewell beneath ember shaded clouds.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
To think the bouquet slipped
beneath the current,
committed to a stream
fast forgetting
as their faint aroma dies softly
in hopeful blossoms,
rather than within the lungs of
their beautiful intended.
I watched them slip between
yellow boughs stooped low,
hopeful to glean but one
splendid petal
among glistening river stones
upon which danced a splash of crimson
farewell beneath ember shaded clouds.
It's really not as sad as it sounds.
