abdulalhazred

I come in and found the rose petals
hours old and dried already.
Scattered on the floor,
in logical pattern.
Also covering the silk,
almost no speck of white left uncovered.

Taking in the site,
I rest.
I see you with our shears,
trimming and snipping and clipping away at the stems
rose petals drift down to the floor
Not resting until you make the biggest mess you can.
I can see you smiling, laughing.
Finding humor in your handiwork,
Laughing until exhaustion sets in
and you lie down satisfied.

Rested, I cross the room.
I kiss the final unbespeckled spot of silky smooth flesh on your forehead
and take the shears from your cold hand and leave,
shutting the door quietly, I leave you to your slumber.