in the end it was all flowers

in the end it was all flowers:
the arrhythmia
moles and scars
wrinkles and white hair
veins and callouses
oud and bergamot
sweet metal and musk
spiders, flies and fireflies
sepia on olive, olive on sepia,
sepia on olive,
sunlight streaming through the leaves
a wind so mild i couldn’t believe it
fresh paint and cut grass
the fear (and exaltation) of making a quarter turn too close
thirst
teardrops, tantrums
olive on sepia
the omission of parting words.
beautiful things, real things,
flowers.