The year of disease

The roses bloomed and died while I was gone,

Dozens, a wall of glorious crimson, grabbing light;

Bursting, then all at once browning, fading, but having lived.

Petals drifting to the cold soil, crushed, dry bones of rebirth.

We burst, rub together, then fade;

The pieces we leave behind embedded.

Lips formed to kiss, a surprise,

Your taste lingers, like time.

Eyes narrow and dark become brown and soft, startled, questioning.

The darkness peels away, silence become sound; a sigh.

Light cracks the gloom; your face.

Roses bloom and die and feed their resurrection.

Skin accepts the dew, becomes alive.

Bodies astride accept love.

Darkness opens to light

There is always light.

Always light.

About michaelstephendaigle

I have been writing most of my life. I am the author of the award-winning Frank Nagler Mystery series. "The Swamps of Jersey (2014); "A Game Called Dead" (2016) -- a Runner-Up in the 2016 Shelf Unbound Indie Author Contest; and "The Weight of Living" (2017) -- First Place winner for Mysteries in the Royal Dragonfly Book Awards Contest.
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