Beneath the broken yolk of sunrise, flowers like gauze–

planted by moonbeam shafts streaming once white and singular and

watered by the moon dreams of whispers between things never imagined–

blossom at my feet

ruby emerald sapphire amethyst citrine

shimmering with diamond dew.

I ache to pluck and gather lovely blooms in my fist

For life’s long absence of color has me believe

rainbows are simply stripes in shades of black and white and gray.

Alas, my dress has no pockets for bouquets

So I linger longer over these precious petals

Rather than rushing and running headlong into today

and risk the brisk fading of yesterday

knowing that tending to those moments, with care,

will turn them into memories worth keeping and pressing

between the pages of life lived,

not withered minutes tossed out in

tomorrow’s trash.

…

Image courtesy Susann Mielke at Pixabay