Vases with flowers on countertops-
No good to those who wish for eternity,
or easy appreciation.

There is pruning, watering, replacement.
There are dead petals strewn among the granite,
drooping dying faces bending into gravity.

Beauty lasted only for a second and,
all that was left behind were holes in the ground.
Those roses left for dead.
Unnourished for but a moment.

Uncherished from muddled perception.
Like all the plastic primrose-
And artificial daises held up to mirrors,
Empty when it needed light.

It was not the lesser hand that took it,
and promised it forever,
but lack of understanding,
the message caught in friction.

Empty when it needed light.
Clipped from its roots before it had a chance to sing.