Blue Memories

Roses smelt, with
their red faces, fat and
intriguing. The other side
of the fence was hers but
sick was a stomach as eyes
turned to these tulips.
Dying, with the black
leaves cracked by frost.

You called them names
and they listened. Even
though they aspired to
be those beautiful roses
they were tulips.

Their
quiet faces, painted in
the white and yellow hues
were not beautiful enough
for her garden, let alone
for your own.