Now they are lovely,
these roses? No, but be glad they shine now, early this summer, floating, breezily as night comes, resting, white, yellow, hybrid but still pure. A torrid wind, heat evaporation, and nary a soul cares the world as night passes day, takes long pauses as curses fly across to warn of impending doom. Yes they said as much - or at least they dared the brilliance of heroes who paved before - reds, again, petunias chosen for gawking visitors, or none will wake. Fewer still they bob heads, branches flower to crisp grey stalks, wilting slowly with amber, looking for green but finding nothing, they gasp - incapable of frugal times, heading away saying goodbye to genius. © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
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December 2018
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