Tiny Lightning

Nan has this twinkle
in her eye
in her eye
And all the rightness in the world sits
in that smallish gleam

(the spark of life itself it is)
a glint that makes existence
mean something

She smiles with serious lips
and she cares to the point of pain
But this flit of pure brightness speaks
run-on beams about mischievous hope
so unlike her demure

She makes you realize
eyes only shine because of tears

The tragedy of a rose

A death of indignity
set in the ominous scene
of fall
Even the slightest of breeze
will strip it naked, unwilling
Petals shed ungraceful
fall like ripped scraps of satin
Bare
reveals the tragic secret
of nothingness underneath
That the beauty
was just clothes