bittersweet

flowers like presents in my hedge, i pick
them and open them only to find they
are as empty as promises i made
yesterday.

time is running out and i will know it
is time when the flowers fade and
the petals fall to the ground leaving
the dirt scattered with vivid reds and
pinks like a river of blood.

i am weary and too disheartened to sweep
them up, collect and hold them in my hands,
what good are petals when the flowers have died?

denise

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