The flower rouge oozes subterfuge.

Blush, blush!

The flower blues, petaling pollen pila —

perfection is a game for two.

Perfection is the moment before bloom.

Petal waft!

Perfection when the petal wafts,

the petal meets the ground to make

two.

Perfection fills the flower field,

a big blooming 

petal womb.

The flower blues 

are the end-too-soon blooms.

A petal meets the ground:

Hush hush 

the flower rows

the flower seats

the flower section

legions of flowers

hush the moment

the petal hits the ground.

The bloom is over,

petals reign on petalground.

Vesuvian waft to perfect

another Pompeiian town.

The ash is unvaried,

black intermixed with brown.

The perfect flower’s perfection

is to smooth this funereal mound.

Hush! 

the moment

perfection begins to soothe.