Ripen and fade with age
Invite me back to memory and
Very tired flowers. I
Assemble the lavender beauties in my hand, bunching them together when
The night wind
Elopes with the stars, the
Stars smile as they
Align together in the
Night, the lilacs point up to the
Crescent moon,
Tears shed at midnight. The flowers
Unite, ready to
Assent and wither,
Ready to let go. And
Yet, I am not ready. Will I ever be?
I love the line "when The night wind Elopes with the stars"and the connection between flowers withering and being ready to let go of a memory.
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