The motifs of Mrs O'Leary
were red roses and any birds
to make the day less dreary
without recourse to words.
Her embroidery held a spring
coiled up against her sleeve
and if the phone would ring
it might explode. She would leave
the room to putter and sing
and dust the empty fire hoses.
The world went on and roses
were her thing.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
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