21 Jan 2016 – Flowers

When I was young I was dreadfully stupid –
this not the time or the place for the details.
Bullseye! Perpetual pin cushion, cupid!
Road-worn and weary. Running – to no avail.

Now that I’m older am I really wiser?
Grasping at oil makes it run through the fingers.
The poison drips – not from the buds – but desire.
Heart mad, you taste but you simply can’t linger.