Bright Roses

[keilexandra]

A poem and a riddle! Cut for convenience; the riddle is untitled, for obvious reasons.

Rose

Instead of a ring, he proposed
by offering me a single copper rose.
The rose was our love, he said,
lasting for generations to come.
I believed him, and leaned my love
in a crystal vase without water.

At first the rose outshone its
sparking iridescent vase,
four finely wrought petals and a leaf
with rippled ridges, all polished
higher than gold and standing
atop a drawn rod.

One day the rose looked
less like gold and more like copper,
severe stem silhouetted
against many-faceted glitter.
Playfully twirling on pointed toes,
feathery motes settled to rest.

Years passed and the copper
rusted into corrosive needles,
while its clear container
glowed like an ethereal x-ray machine,
a prism reforging shattered, discarded
shards of sunlight and moonbeam.

Instead of a rose, I proposed
by offering him a crystal vase
filled to the brim with icy spring
water, straight from the bottle.
I paid extra for overnight delivery,
prefaced with a bulky yellow envelope.

From overhead the sun sinks slowly down
Past low mountains reflected in the moon,
To forge from sweat a star so shining bright
It fits far north in tapestry of sky.

On dying land a neon sign looks red
Then yellow as a lone firework spark,
And blooming green is scarcer than crisp bills
Paid for a pink ticket from rush traffic.

Deep under earth the lamp worth more than gold
Reveals an instant flash of blind thunder,
Where panicked pray and cooler head(s) prevail
To save the day and halt emergency.

Thus the world will end
Without this precious,
All-powerful word
For which we all yearn.

Guess, guess!