End of the Bloom

stamen soldiers
jutting
erect and silent
stand tall
and naked
in afternoon's
fading dusty light

days before
blooms of
seriously yellow
and
heart crushing
orange
beguiled
and
mesmerized eyes

now
withered petals
lay in heaps
fallen
and stacked
haphazardly
on cool
terra cotta tile
in a shrine
of silence

Sharon Frye