Roses - 10/21/11

I married a violet rose petal
and a fallen autumn leaf today.
I dropped them in a luscious stream
so that they might together enjoy
the flow of life.
But their marriage held no water,
for the violet rose petal
dropped straight and true to the surface
while the fallen autumn leaf
fluttered through still air
in a chaotic path,
landing in the thorns on the river bank.
So the violet petal
swam the river in solitude.

Now, upon the cement siding
of the bridge -
from which I wed the rose and the leaf -
that crossed the rive -
into whose flow only the rose fell -
there walked a
spherical, spotted, scarlet bug,
a lady in all rights.
This lovely lady lingered
on the cement siding of the bridge,
clasped vertically
by anti-forces
I would love to find control over.
This lovely lady lingered
through the chill
that wafted up from the river.
She stayed through the shivers,
shaking spirals of autumn leaves,
through spirited static,
the waves coursing through the structure
as many a man walked by.

I remained.
Many a man walked by
and I remained.
The wind blew away the leaf,
plants floated down the stream,
and eventually the lovely lady bug
walked vertically off.
I remained.

Near that bridge
that ran over that river
that flowed majestically
through the center of that campus
is a rose garden
where bloom roses of
pearly white,
gaudy pink,
friendly yellow,
loving orange,
biting red,
and the violet of the rose petal
that I married to the leaf.
It was in this garden
that the petal was plucked
and brought to short lived marriage.

There used to be a moral here,
but I lost it as sanity bled from my ears,
so take from this what you will.