I put the flowers you gave me when you came
Into a glass, and then gave back the vase
That wasn't mine. It never was the same.
Their happy petals turned and fell because
There were no roots. What might have been was spent
On fussy care and wordy wear. And yet
I kept them in the glass after you left
And drank their fading smiles with fond regret.
I'm not to be the sunny sky to you,