E ach day in cotton gloves, the artist works br P erfecting gorgeous flowers made of silk br H armoniously hued and ever perked br E ternal, unlike fresh ones of their ilk br M eandering back home 'midst evening gloom br E ncounters in a sad neglected park br R etiring, non-attention seeking bloom br A nd feels a stirring of compassion spark br L ets dropp her wooly mitt and stoops to touch br B eneath the leaves, dropped petals slowly fade br L amenting tarnished loveliness nonesuch br O bliquely for a moment two lives braid br O ff hand there is no purpose for a glove br M ortality is tantamount to love.