Petunia Blossoms

Stricken with drought, seared with heat
And abandoned to a brickwork patio,
Petunia blossoms festoon a poverty of rangy arches
As they seek escape from their life sustaining dirt.
Crimson, wine, burgundy velvet,
Elevated isolates of intense and florid wealth,
Suspended above the scorched and tenuous dregs of life.
Violet, purple, plum, the colors we will into midnight
When city lights bleach the skies, empty and lifeless.
Into these dark depth of summer comfort
We slide.
Into these singularities of a life envisioned,
Visions then swept into the darkness,
Passed into alternate realities,
As into momentary, transitory deaths,
We fall,
And find freedom from a harrowing now.

August 2012

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About Jay C Ritterson
If I say nothing, it might be that I have nothing to say.

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