A Dried Rose

a little step why didn’t we take

I had taken though but you not.

the words are mere now so I can scrape them

but what of the feelings that I feel then & now, sometimes & often…

another poem I can write thinking of you

but I do not want to…you know why…

because the poem will not have a soul 

it will just have the soporific dragged-on thoughts–

of how much am in need of warmth of love

of how much I am still in love with you…

it becomes a monotonous tune like crickets call,–

it becomes one of the dried darkened roses in a China vase…



40 thoughts on “A Dried Rose”

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