Ripe Roses
reaching out to touch the rose
it dissolves in my hand
cascading
petals of yellow and pink
carpet the ground
“Guess it was ripe!” someone laughs
a unique perspective - I only saw
beauty dissolve at my touch
perhaps my marriage is ripe
at my touch, will it dissolve
fall to the ground in a shower
of memories and heartache?
or will a bright rose hip form
giving promise of new life
in a different form, sustenance
against the bitter winds of the
long, cold winter that is old age
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