Whispers in the Freezer
By Talia Goodman
Icy crystals
Forming in the back of my eye
I stroke the tender petals,
Glazing with snow
The tear down my cheek
Halts in mid-descent
As the delicate flower dies
The last whiff of perfume
That it will ever gift the world
Reaches my face
And it smells
so
sweet
No comments:
Post a Comment