Are they Rocks? The fallen petals
The failed thoughts in thin air
as they soon fall to wanders;
How sown is the string of water?
Do they watch away
rambling and speaking,
the remanence of names?
Do they watch, and break,
Do they come back,
in other frames?
yes, they do winter,
they grow different petals,
and in time they begin to bloom,
once more;
as they bounce to new grounds,
more blue they had never look,
more yellow, they had never been.
©Michale Poppler
