Photo by Jorge Rosal on Unsplash
The flowers are wilting, dropped leaves dry
on my sun-drenched table
The scent fading, a descendant of itself
In the room it no longer caresses,
I pluck a half-lusty bloom, press it into my journal
The bouquet bursts back to life, almost
And I remember that discovery + enjoyment + release
Is a whole story
Better For That 