(no subject)

Open your fist. For
I know you are holding
petals, bright, pink and red,
between your fingers.

They are crushed,
and smell sweet.

Open your hand, so
they can fall
into the wind,
scatter on the pavement.

Really, I ought to do something productive today

Outside, spring blossoms
are fading in the rain; my
ink swirls, words vanish.