The Other Affair
Not even the wind creates love songs equally,
For a passerby, lifting a stubborn edge of joy
From this ruddy earth with frail hands,
gathering...
Deadheading
You argue the blooms still
alive when we both see
brittle ghosts hovering
over twisted roots,
translucent petals pink
as the time wine
stained our lips, bed
an excuse to day
dream...
