Remnants of An Uncertain Love

By Marianne Bickett
copyright 2009
The birthday flowers are yet
Immersed, sipping with green straws-
Half swallowed or nearly drowned –
One by one I pluck nodding
Blossoms, blackened and wilted
At the moment of their faint
I lift the withered pieces
and carry them in my croning hands,
scatter them in places where they
may stay or tumble in the wind
The last stoic blooms
Of slender amethyst daisies
Next to white, puffy petals
Amidst naked stems remain
Exposed and hesitant
Only the leaves still seem untouched
Like the day they arrived, verdant with open
Palms in some kind of incantation
Offerings of love and celebration
And I wonder, is this the rose that comes
So brightly, a kiss, a whisper of something
Distant, then folds upon itself?
A silent collapse, a closing tight?
A time goes by then and from
The vacant stare of an empty vase,
I ponder love’s return.

Categories: poem by Marianne Bickett, Uncategorized

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