Petals

Another petal
falls from the flower,
a newly open bud,
just blooming, and
I wonder about my love,
waiting without question,
while Time, in its boredom,
pulls away the petals, taunting

He loves you...
He loves you
not...

Time can play its petty games;
I'll have no part in this gamble.

I know my heart.

Whatever the answer,
your picture will still sit
beside the withered rose
long after
the last petal falls.