The MVC Literary Journal

The flower was a blessing

The feeling was compressing.

I glance back to the place

Where placed is the glass vase

A gift of admiration it seems

Fear of possession in the mirror gleams

Then heard is the tear of leaves

A petal that questions as it grieves

If it is beauty destroyed

It is also all my hope

When it is doubt employed

Love has already left

Then one soul is bereft

The other is unknown

Here, is an empty glass vase

Aside a pile of petals, alone

Labels: 2007: Belles Lettres