I watched you spread your flowers in your home

of terracotta clay and praised their life.

Your red-hearted blooms continued to roam

And gave hope that love survives sorrows knife.

But now you drop your blooms and say farewell,

and I empty your terracotta home.

I drop the lifeless dreams I cannot tell

except within the lines of this poor poem.

The forked road brings a choice for me to make…

to plant another seed or love forsake.