This is a poem by John Tustin.
When the last flower dies;
Dying in that space between the soil and the pavement.
And just as the snow is about to fall on that place,
The air cold and relentless,
The ground fisted and hard:
It is then that you should meet me:
That exact moment the ground is most resistant
And the snow is swirling all about.
It is then that we should meet beneath the moon
That does not care for or about us.
It is there that you should kiss me and it is there
That you should look into my eyes
And it is there
That a new flower will bloom.
Or will not.
Smile with me
And hold me close
With the moon a grizzled sneer
And the snow caked in your hair
And don’t stop kissing me
Or looking into my eyes
And I think it will bloom.
Think it, too.
John Tustin began writing poetry again a decade ago and his poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals, online and in print. Fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.