It matters if roses are half or fully bloomed,
If petals carry dew drops or mildew of the dusk,
If spiky thorns in garlands of metal are atombed
Or frozen stems hold faces of people’s painted mask.

It matters to me.

It matters if colours of rainbow fade to grey,
If rays of sunny summers shine only shineless shadows;
If clouds grieve in despair a grievous sky, fresh slay
Or if the stars are distanced as specks of dust, soft mellow…

It matters to me.

It matters if voices change into raging tune,
If chimes grate skins of air, blue jays or deafened ear,
If women’s ruffles shaking become a waltzing swoon
Or every birthing’s screaming reclaims a place, austere.

Does it matter to you?