The bruised red velvet
petals of the three red roses
curl in tight, in solidarity, against
the invasion of their inner selves.
Not so the brazen lily, who bares her soul
her fiery orange tongue; resplendent.
Soft, pink lacy fingers of the
reach out to them, in harmony.
All hold their breath; lie still
on the crisp white linen.
Click; click the only sound
With a long gentle sigh
they relax; knowing their life
is recorded for ever.