Meet the Dawn
by James Wackett

    Outside my window
    is a flower, whose name,
    as yet, I do not know.

    Each day, when I awake,
    no matter how late, those
    petals are open, blazing

    to meet the world.  Their lips
    are as inviting, as red
    and curved as a kiss, and each

    day their hue is slightly
    different, making each sighting
    a distinct event.  At the end

    of each day, though, they pinch
    and close, sealing off
    what was once a possibility

    to behold.  In the morning
    others, like this flower, lie,
    crumpled and dry, on the lawn.

    One morning, I must go out,
    just before dawn, and pluck
    this flower, before it's gone.

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