Bouquet for You


a rose severed from its stem dies too soon and love
should not wish it so; even so I leave these roses
for you on their stem and spare a thought—sent seraphlike
to you through intervening time and space; this moon
looks down to seek you, though through your window it may
not reach. These blooms, could you see them spread pale pink
petals from creeping vines, too wild for groundskeepers to tame.

And the sky spreads from you to me, a mutual
roof in our house, the world. And so together, though
distant, love spans what cannot contain it; words flow
from me to you. How or why we needn’t know. Neither
can stand aloof from other any length of time,
whether by choice or against will, for love has tied
soul to soul, proven as often as tried.

David M Pitchford
21 October 2003
Rev 13 November 2008


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