Ring around the rosy
We scoop you up fistful by fistful
spread you evenly among the gardenias and the roses
as we coat your garden with the film of you.
A pocketful of posies
You are now the sooty remains
gathered from the bottom of a fireplace
after a long winter’s night
Ashes, ashes
This is all that’s left,
these hands sifting through
the sand of you,
a requiem.
We all fall down
Reblogged this on Reruns: Poetry and Prose.