The faces of pansies tell stories
too tragic for human ears.
They are marred with
folds incapable of repair.
They are cursed with veins
that nurture long-kept secrets.
Their whisker slashes make
them easy prey for dogs.
Their mustaches and
beards hide their sorrow.
The floral gems long to speak,
but they weep behind petal shields.
They smirk while making patchwork
for the besmirched and befuddled.
The final batch are withered
from age, yet their black
flecks and lavender dew drops
echo youth in flux that awaits rebirth.
©2012 This work is the property of the author.