Roger Eric Barber
Do you know
that white can become blue?
Flowers like that
are my gift to you.
Azure is a color you hold close,
a fate I wish to be my own.
So still I stand on that threshold,
a statue, my clone.
Smiles aren't becoming of stone,
happiness being only of a flower
that is held close to me
waiting for you in the early hour.
Even as petals fall to meet the silent earth,
while my skin turns to earthen shell.
I still can wait for this kind of love,
sinking into a private hell.