rose

to say goodbye

and to never know

if i will see you again

it is much like falling off a cliff

landing so very low

and yet to never know

what might have been

a dream that ends

the energy settles

like dust

and all the love goes

up in smoke

the fire never stoked

we know

what happens

when we pick a rose

we let it go

it then withers and dies

a beautiful flower goes

into another spring

and leaves her seeds

scattered on the ground

where words have fallen

yet never made a sound

~patty

art by pancrace bessa (paris 1772–1835 ecouen ) “a rosebush” oil on canvas