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The Florist
I was walking in the heat of the day.
The sun shone down on me, bathing me gently
but generously in my own salt water.
In front of me walked a man.
Despite the heat, he was wearing heavy clothes.
A flannel shirt, with a heavy goose down coat.
Baggy jeans, showing underwear I had
no desire to see.
"If he's a rough one, I'd better keep my distance" I thought.
Then he did an extraordinary thing.
He passed a flower bush, pulling off the blooms
and strewed them on the ground.
He did it to another.
And another!
It was the WAY he did it.
It was not violently or with vandalistic intent.
He was like a flower girl at a wedding,
sprinkling blessed blossoms on a bridal path.
Even though elequently
Even though elequently scattering flowers he should not have, cut fresh flowers won't last very long, however, flowers left to bloom on bushes and trees are a wonder to behold and bloosom throughout their season. Maybe he was saying that the marraige would not last long; as he spreads the dying flowers. Your poem, made for a good read and I enjoyed your poem very much.
http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57
Thank you.
Thank you.
Wow! Great unique imagery.
Wow! Great unique imagery. Elegant and insightful.