Pressed

Faded rose

Dried

and pressed

into the pages

of a book

Dead

yet living 

in remains

and memory

The Wolf & the Rose

Rosefall

White roses raining down

Reaching to the ground

Holding one by the thorned stem

White petals turn to blue 

Sweet fragrance

Envelope me

Idle Moments

If we cannot let our minds wander idly

from time to time

what will become of our souls?

Souls are another discussion 

that would fill 

pages and pages of support and rebuttals.

Let it be said

that there is an intrinsic part of our being

that is beyond mere corporeal form. 

We must be free to wander and wonder

or we will die as inevitably

as a cut rose placed in a glass bottle. 

There is a dead rose next to me

with it's head bowed.

I can remember 

the fragrant smell

of it's smile.

We live only for one season.

a solitary fate

All roses bow their heads
when standing alone 
in the clutch of
a vase.