like celestial beings, she recited each by name
andromeda, cosmos, asters, stargazers;
as velvety as the night sky
stems danced between fingertips at golden hour,
artfully tucked into place
plucked one by one, a childish chant
he loves me, he loves me not
left with a lonely trace of pollen
growing towards the light,
its petals closed upon dusk
ready for slumber
a balmy sweetness
once boasting silvery buds
fades to dusty hues