Fresh-Picked Roses

From Modern Dreams

A rose is lying in the summer mud—
The dew still fresh from when it fell last night.

A phoenix sinks into a sea of sands—
See how the midnight sky outshines the day?

It’s true—a comet burns one moment then
It fades and scatters on the cosmic surf.

But Hector too had breathed his final breath,
Then like a comet vanished in the depths.

A boy is dreaming on a back…