Broken Flowers

Flowers

1.
Nurtured by
Thorn-laden bush

Plucked they open
Soft to touch

But then crushed
In callous hands

Broken flowers
Flutter down.

2.
Estranged now
From nurt’ring vine

On cold ground
They grow brittle

From tough vein
To fleshy petal.

3.
Night’s calm breeze
Casts them hither

On tiny stones
They do shatter

There they lie,
Die, and wither.

4.
Flowers now?
What remains?

– Scattered ashes
And hands red-stained.

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