She rides
                                   on the back
                                   of fireflies,
                                   from one
                                   to the other

                                   ten to five
                                   job of selling
                                   only roses
                                   that bloom
                                   in these hours
                                   could hear.
                                   Like those
                                   that sprung

                                   on city side-
                                   walks, strongly
                                   perfumed, red-
                                   petaled and bare.
                                   Waiting beside
                                   lampposts for
                                   to come, slow
                                   down, extend

                                   a wing, burn

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posted by S.L. Corsua