I picked a perfect bloom

From the penumbral forest floor

Just to press it between the weeping pages

Of a journal I will likely file away (and forget)

After it is as full as a blue unshed moon —

And overflowing —

With other plucked flowers and wind-harvested words.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** Killer of flowers! Picker of innocent blooms! ***

*** At least I am a discerning and highly selective killer of flowers. ***