Welcome Mat of Flowers

Words

falling like

soft rain,

she is sharp

to

the shape

of things. 

Fifty four 

years

in place 

of

twenty 

four. 

Antique

locks next

to a digital

padlock

attached

to the bridge

of evolving. 

Easing into

the smile,

Letting 

the wax

detach

and drip

onto 

the thick

wood floor. 

Gathering 

scents

to remind

her of the

sick. 

A welcome

mat of 

flowers,

so

dirty

that the 

message 

echos

in those 

words.