Bush Roses

White blossoms

Happened overnight.

They have no reason for being there,

For being so multitudinous.

Sweet smell of June,

Clean white of long ago,

Shadow patterns shifting on the ground,

While white blooms grow.

Memories abound,

Tangled and confused

Rising unwanted to the surface,

Clouding out blossoms.

Good memories or bad?

Is it nostalgia that paints them happily?

Or do they serve as backdrop,

To today's catastrophe.

Does it even matter?

The past can never live again.

Only humans linger on,

Giving way to grief for one short moment.

Wind calls back to present.

Stirring through white blossoms.

Flowers bloom unceasing.

While grief softens.