such
a
quirky
perversion
for a yellow orb
I picked it before its fullest
promising & contradictory perfume suffusing
colour of dislocated sun leaving the garden
less golden a conundrum the
rose called Freesia
sensual
velvet
soft
its
petals
complexion
of vibrancy &
nostalgia scattered amid
irreconcilable fraying into leftover
memories paling into the knowledge nothing lasts
today they hang limply shape of
folded hearts betrayed
in a glass
of tears
loss
in
gardens
tomorrow
I'll leave them to bloom
unlike Manet's consecrated
on the painted cloth where forever lifeless they lay
