REQUIEM FOR MIKE

It opened
slowly, as some roses
do: continual, imperceptible,
perfect, as time
opens its doors before us.

The petals stirred and 
loosened, unwrapping the green
cocoon to reveal the secrets
of moonlight and rain,
the work of the sun,
the profits of silence. 

I saw color
deeper than promise,
the deep red of love found,
of martyr's blood, the banners
of rescuing armies,
their trumpets,
their drums.

I saw a rose
surpass the limits of root,
leaf and heart.  I saw the gift
laid open, the flowering
that would not fade or wither
petal by petal.

Then one black and silver night
all the petals fell together,
all at once,
scattering rubies
into the dark grass.

			Lucille Murphy