Rose Petals

October 8th 2023

A petal falls slowly, breaking away from the dried rose that rests in an empty bottle, once filled with liquor from the honey plains. The Psalms peek out from below an old field book, the cover torn and aged, and your fingers strum a tune as I hum beside you. Though unnamed, the rhythm is still known, the melody still played, and the words are still found. I wonder if this moment was already written on the strings of your guitar, long before we sat in this space, together in graceful unity.