A Withered Rose Left

there grew a flower
in the soil of their
distance rich expectation

and she warned that
he had painted too hard
a picture that should blur

till they reunited in
a focus but young men
specially lonely do not listen

blinded by the promise
made by a fiery heart
to a subservient mind

when this distances blanket
folded and met on corners
the rose stood them tall

only rain days brought
the canvas into focus
and in the aperture light

downed the detail of
a withered flower that
one set of hands cannot save


and the phantoms of her fingers
did not cull the soil and he
left her under falling petals
wiping the cold dirt from his palms