Untitled by Nicole Pletts

It’s sometimes hard to tell: tears may fall

at night they fell

from her lashes

now — puddles filled with rain

I stick roses in them, so they bloom

in calm, rose pallets

stretching their arms out to you

mumble, as they awake

gently, she opens her eyes

“goodbye”, she says, she cries

another storm

this, too, will pass

your roses are all grown

their laughter is filling the air

hot, condensed — a miracle

but, sadly, I am not there