I can't bear to throw out the dead flowers:
When I dropped the bunch in the compost this morning,
the one
still alive
fell
from
the
group
and bounced off my shoe.
Its soft pink head looked as silky as my hair was in your hands.
A silk bud put to sleep in a palm.
I pick it up
and slip it in my pocket.
I keep things a little longer than I should sometimes.