(Poem by Wendy Howe )

My hands shadow the roses
like the pale wings of a moth
hovering in air, attracted to the light
of petals still glistening
from the morning rain.

Sunrise and sunset cast their flames
in these flowers unfolding
our days together, time spent
among the garden leaves and birds,
the bedroom curtains and street lamp
showing the silhouette
of an evergreen that nods
her head like a matchmaker
in the wind.

Slowly, my fingers trace the floral edge
of paradise. I cannot count
how many tears I have swallowed,
or the needles on the pine tree
you love near our window.
These flowers just open, vocalizing
a song of devotion we both share
and blossom in perpetually;
each new day added
to the long-stemmed arrangement
of Fate.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.
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