No Goodbyes
by
Amethyst

The first wild rose--
triple reflection with
overlapping petals,
distortion in the dark glass
of a car window.

The fragrance of fields
drifts gently to me after rain,
perfect wordless words
spoken in a moment
of despair.

Goodbye is the sharp sting of snow
that forgets all these,
that freezes and solidifies rebirth.
Goodbye is a decision,
a turning away,
never wanting to see
someone again.

Goodbye is burying the corpse
of the past.

And goodbye is an illusion
like the triple reflection
of the rose
in the glass.

From somewhere
a scent of sweet clover comes to me,
and newly-mown grass
and wild flowers.

There are no goodbyes,
only tomorrows.