Floral Waterfalls
I thought to clip a rose
as I did, stopped to think,
would my clipped rose
be happy with a faucet
drink? A clipped rose
in a thermal made vase,
yet of glass pure sand remained,
I sensed, a blessed clear trace –
like sacred-core of a stone, like my
deeper earpiece, closer
to the bone, my personal
spirit-phone – a clipped
rose...by the window, in
a fancy wet gown; residing
in a new blossom place,
keeping close to home, God’s
many wondrous, tiered inner/outer space --
on my beloved, painted kitchen walls,
cascades
of floral
waterfalls --
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