Flowers from a Book
Opening, slowly as a
forgotten murmuring dream
Undressed, naked in its
sepia hidden secret years
Of once bright orange
stamen, now stained, ingrained
As an old nicotined
finger of petal thin skin
Pointing it’s impress
to words of once love of a lost memory
Sacrificed in a last
act of submission
Inscribed by
copperplate indigo ink that has paled
As lost old eyes that
no longer see, now to be found
By other fingers that
have touched the soul of sorrow
Kissed by lips that
have tasted hopelessness
English Bakery Boracay Philippines15th February 2012
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