miming sculpted delights of nature
satin lips and angels’ breath,
smiling in ribbon-tied bouquet
in variegated rapture,
colors never seen in real roses.
exquisitely fashioned with
fingers matching mind’s vision,
titivated with crepe, tissue and satin,
adorned in sparkles and beads,
with rich perfume for redolent breath
they smiled in radiant delight.
my last parting gift for you
who taught me to love flowers
‘never pluck a flower’ you said ,
‘flowers inspire and spread bliss,
as nature’s poetry sprinkling hues
in drab existence, adding fragrance
to smoke-choked air.’
roses replenish dried palettes of Iris
as he paints rainbows,
lending hues to brush of Eos and Hespera.
as I bid you a sad adieu
your casket strewn in fragrance,
to embark on a journey to the unknown
I remember your love for flowers,
so no fresh, dewy roses for you,
from weeping boughs,
but paper roses made to simulate
flowers you loved abloom
in verdant embrace.
paradoxically I bid farewell
to a gardener with paper roses…