the sheaf of tulips so tight in their green buds
I could barely distinguish the yellow seams.
They came with a hand-written card
chosen for me in particular:
the year of the dragon, they remembered,
blowing flame onto a cake.
I placed them into a crystal vase on my altar
watched them transform into luscious cups of sunshine,
quenching my parched heart in the cold spring mornings.
The tulips that stood strong for such a long run
have begun their descent in every direction
bowing slow like a viscount or consort
regal but with grace and affection.
The petals, still supple, begin to lose
their plump lustre, ripple with discolored edges,
the wide green leaves blend in by bleaching yellow.
They are taking up more space now in their later days,
noticing the objects on all sides,
looking for a place to lie down.
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I welcome kind feedback from you on these posts, and am happy to answer questions about the work.