FRESH BLOOMS
She bought a gift shop Monet scarf
A turquoise bracelet
Places never seen.
She bought herself fresh flowers that day
The vase discarded in the street
A little gnome caught her eye
Thence a fisherman for her patch of sky.
She thought about a trip to Sante Fe
A story from her Dad
And on that day bought a hammer
Not so large
Finally fix that cupboard door.
With seven blows applied it to her ungrateful lover's head
And fell upon the floor.
She will never see her gnome again.
Nor smell fresh blooms
Nor look so grand in Monet's scarf
She so believed
She so believed
One day when everything was right.
On that day
That one special day having made the fresh start
Only to keen old wounds again
And die from the shattered heart.
© 2017 Andrew Lucre
