Same Vase

Life, looking over at life
in glass pitcher
Leaves, falling down
wilted and withered
once held, half-full
now, bathed in cloudy brown

Eyes speckle, spotted green
lines frayed and twisting
seeing escape, with legs tied
One open mind, hangs free
on the other side of resisting
tired
Its petal mane
draping over, dried

Above, unopened bulbs
cluster closed
seemingly minding their business
Waiting to speak
when it will never be
their time, out of sync
maybe they were plucked, too early
either way, we’ll never hear
what they have to say

The pink, peachy one
looks alright
in safe-keeping
Propped up
in a white-on-white sea
frothing, among violet varietals
cultivated, between name
and seed

Suddenly, I can’t wait
to unmake
toss them all in the bin, regardless
To try again, next time
in mourning

“Look,
the glorious
Queen chrysanthemum”

I hesitate…

Then again,
must they all share fate
for being found, together
rubber-band bound, at center
no room for air, between?

I snip
at stick-fit
bundle spring, untangling
The slip
of stem skinning
sighs out, in separation
I'm breathing in
scent-spray, release

Some may take this
as plea
A bid for advice, unsolicited
Looking for mistakes, and
new ways
to swoop in
and save the day, but
if I share something, broken
do you need to fix it?

Yes, I know
tomorrow
this will all go back
to being
an empty vase
but today, can we please
just let it be
a bouquet?

Thanks for reading! There is no Back of the Page follow-up section today. Monday’s Post was long enough 😅

I have a few interpretations for this poem (and may post them someday), but for now, I’d rather leave space for yours. I would love to know what you think. 🌼