when they die
the flower shop hustles and bustles
the procession rolls in
in the rolls royce
that one day
they are remembered
when they die
they bring them flowers
they visit
because now they are gone
the tears flow freely from eyes so dark and empty
but the months in between
so so long in between
before the showering of the embodiment of aromatic beauty
or the meaningful visit
were full of meaningless acts
void of the now dead
to partake of this meaninglessness
i desire no tears
they would not be for me
they would be for your sorrow
i desire no place of rest
because i will rest when pieces of me
are done floating the earth
i desire my flowers now

Written/Contributed by Anita Siraki

Tags: Your Poetry //