Alice holds the lilies
across her arms, admiring
the smooth, cold curve
of them. Snow flowers,
she thinks, and shivers.

She sets them neatly
in a vase, steps back,
sighs, thinking
they were not meant for
here. This room.
They should be somewhere
white and empty,
not here, where the eye
snags on an open book,
gets tangled in a red scarf
slung across a chair back,
lingers in a half full glass –

and they’re not for her,
but for some other Alice,
calm and collected, a girl
of simple shifts, and shiny
hair. Well cut.

Alice observes the lilies,
like a message, knowing
they have made
the first crack
in the eggshell of her love.

Back on that mushroom. Today’s prompt is ‘Lily’.