retirement poem

storm
as a white candle
a mile behind
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
let us plant
one by one, like leaves from a tree
let us pity those who are better off than we are
i hold your heart
i saw the first pear
beautiful, tragical faces
two rows of cabbages
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
a bird sang