Monday, May 09, 2011

The Fate of Roses

When in the summer garden,
white petals spread thin snow across the path
time fails

When in the bursting  hedge
dead elms point leafless fingers at the sky
hope  falters

When in the silky  sand  of childhood's beach
the rusty barbs
intended to hold invaders
flapping like ravens to be shot
tear up the  dancing foot
innocence is less

When in the bowl of lights
those heads appear
exchanging streams of words
which avidly avoid
time, care and hate
truth fades away.

I'll take the fate of roses if I may

Richard Lawson
Reggio Emilia 1999

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