Remember that single flower you picked?
Gathered in stealth and trespass,
Far, so far in that arid land
And I, a whisper on the wind.
How could you help yourself, I ask,
When all around was dust and sticks?
Was it her blush, her cunning sway,
That made you stop and marvel?
Or did you breathe the heady scent
Of thwarted dreams before you bent?
Did you not feel those thorns at all?
They ripped your heart from mine that day.
Warm petals parting, smooth silken lies,
Frisson of sweet illusion -
Safe, so safe in your treacherous arms,
That fraudulent rose, ephemeral balm…
Was it because the clouds had gone
That in your eyes she saw the sky?
Remember that single flower you took?
Wild and wanton, undeserved,
The one you swore you’d thrown away?
I found that flower the other day -
Fragrant still and perfectly preserved,
Pressed in the pages of our book.