The fringes of the velvet petals brush up against the timeless bone-white bark. Her slender hand trembles, naked as it is without the gleaming ring she had dreamt of so often. There were two roses. One stark and wilting with its fleeting beauty, covering up the gaping scar. It was left at the graveside. ~excerpt from poem
The Tuxedo Archives: Vol. 2011
, Article 7.
Available at: http://scholar.dominican.edu/tuxedolit/vol2011/iss1/7