by Judith Pordon
She was pursued by a throng of suitors,
as his one shy rose
wooed her
with idling patience
in tentative
low gear,
but when he accelerated,
boastful,
certainly sure,
he flew preoccupied
off an unseen curve
and never returned.
Now a sculpture
of twisted petals
dance in sardonic curves
around a shrunken heart
in a vase
without water.
- Share this Poem:
