Sometimes the flower dies

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Sometimes the flower dies
or the friend moves away
or the clouds turn gray
and the rain comes in
stiff and colder than you’d like
and all that’s left behind is
a fading scent of spring
or the echoes of laughter
or a gainsaid patience.
Sometimes there is no answer
or the answer is without question
or neither question nor answer speak
and the conversation waits silent,
but just as the rains eventually pass
and the echoes eventually fade
so does spring come once more
in a flurry of fragrant smiles
and saturation more vivid
than the memory of winter skin.




Filed under Words

2 responses to “Sometimes the flower dies

  1. gerald


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