Banks’ Rose

I was at a river of chocolate
There she was, Banks’ Rose
thousands upon thousands
tiny bouquets dangling like wind-chimes
fleeting, fragile, delicate.

I stand with her at a T-junction,
where time stands
stretching thin
invisible.

She’ll soon die
But I’ll be here,
waiting for the rose and her fragrant, soft petals
lingering around just enough to be so
lovable, magical, fantastical.