Wilted peonies in a dusty vase
by Maureen Travers
Presage a warning to my faltering hand
As I open the door.
You are gone and the light has gone with you,
In the tracks on the floor, your hasty departure
Is evident to my weeping glance
And I know who to blame.
I left you alone and unloved for too long -
No note left behind to deliver me hope
Your hurt must have met its last frontier,
If your love drooped and died
Like those sad little flowers,
Then my neglect