Porcelain

the petals
in pink
lie in the sink
where petals
in white
deny the night
and upon them falls
the flickering scrawl
of candle light

in the dusky mirror
where shorn and shear
a face hovers near
in a shadow
gone fallow
above the petals so pink
which lie on the brink
neither white nor red
neither alive nor dead
a rose blush
blooms a flush
such a decadent touch

~R. Harder