0235 The Close

Sit with it like a nurse
at the hour of dusk
every few minutes
glancing over
and seeing its petals
closing, slowly
slowly,
vegetable muscles
we have no word
such awe
and when finally
closed
there's no knowing
whether tomorrow
they will
open

I wish
your death
had been like that

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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