Sunday, June 18, 2006

petal

try to hold on
to keep your grip on the petals
keep the perfume in your nose
it reminds you of the day...

...the day before the day after
when towering men marched out
and trampled the flowers down
now all you have left is...

...memories of petals and perfume
leaves that fell and wrinkled
they died, returned to the soil
the soil, like sand, that falls

through your fingers, counting down
seconds pass, seconds fall
minutes pass, minutes fall
the hour comes, the perfume is gone

and the stench of death is strong.

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