Dead-heading Roses

Dead-heading Roses - poetry

Dead-heading, the saddest of all garden commissions.
A faded bloom
A necessary evil,
A tiny death falls into my palm.
I'm sorry, apology whispered.

Only able to do so many before I must escape.
I sit on the deck, smoking.
I smoke a cigarette, rocking
and chide myself for the grief
that like a thorn burrows in my chest.

©Dove Cochrane

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Marc Chagall, Painter of Symbols

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