
Bernard Buffett
I, too, was once a tulip
firm, Parisian fan petals
velvety, soft and
worthy of touching.
I, too, was once one of them
things with long, firm legs,
a pop-up delight
free falling in the windy night
only to regain my composure
each morning,
dew drops refreshing me.
I, too, was plucked by the stem,
shoved in a basket with the others
my age, for comparison.
Brought to market
and sold on a whim,
then put in a vase
out of sunlight,
and forgotten.
No one looks at you after your colors go dim.
©2023 | K. Hartless
GloPoWriMo #11: This poem was written for Late Night Poet’s Break on Through celebrating the paintings of Bernard Buffett.





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