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Pocket Full of Roses

With a pocket full

of secret roses

I swear, 

I swore

that this bunch of flowers

could grow for as long 

as they promised

to keep their colors going.

Then something happened,

they were unhappy perhaps,

demanding more of the sun

pushing their way

in front of other plants.

Were they truly neglected?

Sure, there was a dry spell

the soil was a little thirsty,

temperamental downpour

was sure to come.

Woefully unavoidable

no one ever plans on

neglecting their garden

full of the velvet gems.


I can’t stop staring

so of course

these roses

have the highest priority.

 These are first time flowers.

Gems with their magical charms,

not knowing that their petals,

open up, 

just as another closes.

And as long as I 

speed through time

I keep just fast enough

so the petals will never run out.

The trail out in front of us

eventually will show

all the places we’ve traveled. She loves me,

She loves me not.

I hate those words,

and yet,

I can say both things

equally the same.

How does one 

just stop growing

under this 

the midday sun?

Always be quiet,

it’s a part of the code

that hasn’t learned

to be all vocal.

You’d think,

after all these years

being so close to the ground

these flowers would learn

to be patient.

Simply follow 

where the sun goes.

With half of the flowers 

having petals expelled

she loves me right?

I keep plugging,

pulling and skipping

‘she loves me not.’

I can’t stand those words.


 the very thing

that has caused this

blackout void.

Flowers must know

that temporary lights

are sometimes enough.

That a sun 

hidden behind clouds

still shines it’s rays on them.

The beauty gems

 can’t expect

 each day

to be a blindingly 

perfect day.

Perhaps understanding 

that the sun

is a little busy

having to warm

all the others too.


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