I prefer rose's honesty

Each flower opens its face
to the sun,
doing violence to the dark
places beneath–

Each course in its bloom,
a moon lighting everything
‘till new–

A yellow star has fallen–
captured, placed
in these pages.

	Her fragile heart, 
papery-thin,
          her two-month bloom,
my accompaniment–       in this, this.

Their honest flames
dance scarlet
along the edges,
wildly in-lit.

© Chris Murray (2024)

from the book Her Red Songs.