And she stared at them, lying there.
Plucked from their home;
Taken away from the soft earth that held them tightly.
Lying there now on a cold table
In the lighted hour of the day
Bursting in pink
Fading away in life
Bottled in a vase;
They spoke to her of memories fade.
Blooming in her brain.
“I bottled them up too”, she said.
Every piece that felt great.
Every soft petal laced in hazy happiness.
Made them last before they withered and fade;
Sprung and uprooted them from their place.
Pluck the pieces like puzzles placed.
Blooming in her head’s vase.
Withering away in time and space.