tiny red flowers

I once dreamed of flowers
tiny red
flowers
like solferino buttercups
blooming from my fingertips
as I touched a pillow
where no one slept
no one wept
for an absent lover

in the absence of
honest hearts
feeling joy and pain
the poets are there
opening their hands
to make fields of bright flowers
to wake the wind
and draw the sun out
of hiding

the flowers were perfect
like the little
paper
blossoms
you get from dropping
sea shells
into passive glasses
of tapwater
to see what happens next


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.