windowsill realization

velvet on the window sill
it was not for me
but i could not help but covet the rose
there that morning in the kitchen
of our shared house,
i see the love between them now
everything hidden
displayed in one single absolutely velvet rose
and it surprised me sweetly
from the polite distance i had adopted
because they had only met as recently as i,
surprised sweetly because i perhaps am a cynic
had to admit it at this point to myself,
and it takes a rose to speak sometimes
when throats seem inarticulate.
they both were reticent to speak very often
but that rose,
(it was her birthday),
opened discretely their closed doors
their solitude,
absorbed in each other,
and silences, absences,
became velvet.
Somehow it birthed honour
all doubt lain
it was fresh, deep bleeding
of bloom
bloom in its prime.