The flower is old

Nothing untoward happened

The plant from which the flower droops

Is green and brown and healthy


Seeing into a dappled sky

The pink is down

There are marks and spots

Peer fuchsias don’t look so well, either

It happens, doesn’t it


Little more to say

As day drops toward night

There might be even less tomorrow

Nearby I think there is a bud-in-waiting

To release

Youth into the air


Is there a metaphor—well, there

Really is a flower

I’ve seen it every day for two weeks now

And some


A figure for something else


Passage of time

Inexorable results

Everything we gain

Bright then slowly fading

I think you can take us through the rest


C L Couch



Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Paintings from my [Spiske’s] thirteen year old nephew. Have a look: