Epoch Poem by Rachel Butler

(Dedicated to the unknown gardener)

The rose was the gardener’s joy,
a gentle light in his eye as he talked of his rose.
A tear formed as her corolla so delicate in texture
warmed his soul.

Then, passionate red bougainvillea,
jagged was cruel reward for time and tender,
when the gardener saw his blood flow, he knew all had been fruitless.

Subjugated, crushed, his heart bled until his light extinguished.

Sparrow