just one to hold onto

As much as I love this dozen roses I got today,

as much as I water

and tend to

and admire them

and breathe in their scent of newness

and brush my nose to their soft petals,

I cannot stop them from growing brittle.

I turn to look at the single old rose laying across the dresser,

faded in color,

so fragile I can’t even touch those delicate petals…

Beautiful to admire from a distance,

but far from the vibrant, lush, LIVING blossoms

that consume all of my senses

and perfume my world.

I may collect a hundred dried roses,

and they may tear my heart between

loving reminiscence and agonizing “what-ifs.”

But will there be just one

I can somehow keep alive?