River of Roses

Like cardinals, yes, fiery

Butterflies, the leaves

Now finally changing with

The awakening air, all 

Fluttering from above, falling

In rings and non-sequential streams—

You will be given the honor 

Of being a witness. 

You will first be stepped

On. But soon, hugged over, fallen 

Upon with tears. Kisses shared 

Above your perspective. You

Will hear prayers and promises,

Giggles, letters, scripture. Oh, 

But it is the romance of the kneeling 

That will make you all the sweeter.

And when the glimmer, the shine 

Dances away, the table moved,

The frames placed in bags

With the left over Baby’s

Breath. When their steps tread

Back over you, rich hands warmed

And cheeks hurting, you will

Rest here and contrast with the trees.

A stranger, perhaps a 

Family, will glide to the black 

Sprouting fountain, walk on the

Path. They will look at their

 Feet, and like specks of a laying

Sun, they will see you. Where you 

Came from, when you became,

They will have no answer.

Don’t you believe they will

Smile? I do. They will 

Wonder, and maybe even 

Guess correctly, about the 

Story they just walked into, a 

Story they are not a character 

In, but get to walk alongside, in 

Surprise and stumbling and 

Glee. 

A story set upon the river of roses.