Flower Bouquet

In a Nalgene
Bowing towards
My window, this
Bouquet’s green
Leaves. What affords
A sun’s noon kiss?

The stems hollow,
Absorbing water
Is a fruitless task.
The heads will follow,
A wilted daughter,
An aging mask.

But yet their tone,
Their optimism in
The petals that reach.
Their hope alone
Is a prism in
A grayscale speech.


Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre