Eulogy for a Rose
If you ever have caressed a petal parted from a rose,
Recall the saline taste of tears and a facial twitch.
How fragile all of life is, I realized today —
After tossing out with the trash that “life’s a bitch.”
How pungent is the stench of fear to age in our skins,
A genetic mutation of vain minds that propagate the specious
And, with (m)admen, are destined to do us in.
Mulling over my final moments with each withered bloom
Of all the roses ripped from fertile soil and accelerated to decay,
I wonder why we jump to false conclusions in assuming
That our lives do not as delicately slip away.
© 1998-2014 Chantale Rêve