Not every petal withers

to crumble just to be one

with the earth

Life is still there

though unearthed and out of hand

or held in a clinched set of teeth

Given out of love and with love

it is the passion that is

remembered

Out of sight it is never

out of mind

For the shelf-life is like that of

a bomb shelter

Indestructible

And though that first time has

bid its fond adieu

the joy is in seeking the pleasure

over and over again

For the willing willing

who keeps the flower full,

supple and fragrant for the

honey’s Honey