they said you were dead and that I should throw you away
those flowers are dried up toss them in the bin
fresh flowers wrapped in paper waiting for a vase
waiting
but I could not for a distant fragrance spoke
but look at the richness in color, and the elegance they speak in saying goodbye
note the movement surely they are a watercolorist dream
nothing last forever you said
that narrow view was never mine
a spirituality of time seeing beyond
dirt
seed
rain
light
bud
blossom
bloom
compost
those dried petals are not just that
how is it that they have …
triggered that which I have buried in my heart
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