A Vase's Dream …
You, bouquet of white roses, spiritual, from Heaven, flowers of whipped cream, of divine silk!
You, 12 disciples of Beauty, with none betraying, dressed in dark leaves, and wearing a glass gown!
All your petals are puckered, blowing fragrant kisses into the air, whispering to noses.
Your long, vibrant legs stand in the still water. They are confident, like women's legs.
You, family of grins, symbolizing transcendent freedom, pirouetting while captive!
You, bouquet, are terminally ill, yet are passionately alive, straining with beauty!
O, happy slaves, trafficked! O, joyous models adorably posing: Exploited!
You, a vase's dream …
Its sky of clouds …
A burst of bells ringing silently over a clear lake …
Soft crown soothing anger, cooling scowls, your own visage enters through bloodshot eyes to embrace needy hearts.
You, a pond's reverie, and the fireworks of stems, smelling sweet like frosting.
A cake, laureled and pearled!
The thought-bubbles of a treetop …
You, bouquet of white roses, spiritual, from Heaven, flowers of whipped cream, of divine silk!
B. R. Burdette is a 34-year-old poet from Los Angeles, CA.