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.