A Twenty Minutes poem.
Those little yellow roses in the glass vase look
so much better now
with their little yellow heads that never unfurled
The juice of youth and growing and all that freshness
they had when they were still uncut still on the bush
long gone by the time I bought them put them in the vase.
They were dead
Now they look like what they always were
those little yellow roses
once somebody took the snippers to their stems.
It’s just so much better not to have to pretend anymore.