UNTITLED

the flowers are mostly gone
but I still feel compelled to stop and smell
the blossom that remains on the branch

that's the part of me that existed
when peonies bloomed in the Square
the part of me that stopped--
supported by your arm--
and loosed a pebble from my shoe
before lifting my favorite flower to my face

except my love for you didn't exist then

now both parts of me stay on the stem
never to die very soon