Sunday, July 5, 2015

Floral Denizens

With angles jagged, bits of ceramic protrusions
starkly contrasting with the linoleum floor,
its remnants scattered confusedly about,
mingled with shards of shining glass
that reflect the sunlight as it glares
down, its golden force enough
to unsettle an immovable 
object, for isn't the sun
an irresistible force?
Having settled on
the mantelpiece,
for years on end,
housing the flowers
that had woefully keeled
due to the harsh sun that refused
to reduce the passion with which it burned,
due to the sorry paucity of sustenance, of respite
from stifling days whose ardor never cooled, due to an 
unfathomable weakness that had never existed before, did
the flowers drop from the pride of an incomparable beauty, to
the misery of loneliness, whose only comfort was the lone ceramic
vase whose cracks widened with each elapsing hour, courtesy of the
overwhelming heat, whose ardor never deigned to cool, whose rays
forced grace to stoop to inelegance, which compelled the formerly
vibrant stalks to yellow and crumble, also obliging the once purple
petals to wither, to droop sadly to the side, upsetting the precious, 
the delicate balance of the plants, letting the vase tip one day, 
precariously, to the right, sending it hurtling, streaking to the
linoleum floor, ending in a deafening shatter of ceramic
against the unyielding, beige flooring, then creating
absolute chaos from tranquility, unsightliness
from past beauty, violent pink fragments
from a united piece of ceramic craft,
whose denizens lay dispersed
amid the wreck of skill,
which was provoked
by the glowing sun

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