The Flowers Are Dead
Sad that no one enjoyed them while they were full of life
Maybe the florist who made them enjoyed them while she put them together in the vase
Maybe she hummed or sang a quiet song to them as she handled them with care
Did they turn towards her as she walked away?
Did they long for a soft touch or a sweet breath as if she were their caring mother?
Did the florist know where they were going?
Would she have put so much care into their arranging if she knew they would end up
here....alone?
Perhaps they enjoyed the sun as it shone through the window pane
As they slowly gave away their glory
Perhaps the birds in the yard remarked at their beauty
I will believe that they served their purpose in being in this place at this time
If for no other reason that to give me comfort as I dream of their journey
Perhaps a lie but I choose to believe
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