One too many wilted roses growing through the cracked cement to plant much more than winter in this thinly made bouquet. A few too many friendly faces gone the way in vain, and every day another epitaph to look upon and smile as the ones that settle light a bit too dimly. And so another word to fall against, and this one’s blue, for all the ends are just too loosely tied and fading. I’d trade them all for morning, but the morning petals bloom and die; the stains they leave, they never wash away.

To go the way we always do, but always unprepared. Another year, and they seem cursory and never quite complete. Another one that could have been.

Happy Birthday, Lexi.

#Matanuska #Alaska

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