THE FLOWER GIRL
It’s in the water—
a liquid rose,
unfurling.
The flower girl’s a wife now.
...It’s not what she imagined.
She loves him
and he loves her, she’s sure of it—
but you know how men can be.
Her father was no different, after all.
She's used to the colours—
to blue and violet and crimson—
almost fond of them by now,
so it's no strange thing
to find herself dripping
scarlet blooms
into the bathtub.
... ...... ....