Invisible Morning
By Todd Coker

I clutch no rail, and ascend
The sanded stair.
I approach the top, and see a rose
Made of water.
Planted in a ring of
Ice, smaller roses encircle the larger.
Heat betrays not a single flower,
For their protection comes about by
Branches and leaves
Growing on trees made of
Crystal and glass.
Their clarity matches
My tears,
Their beauty matches
My loss.
I cry one last time, then I turn to leave.