A Rose then thought

For a split second I saw a rose, then thought of rose, of summer, a crown of thorns the carport at my Grandma’s house, the garden on the west slope, of sitting there on the concrete above I’d watched the people walking down the path, what were they doing, what was that feeling.. wishing I could zip along the colored rows like the swallows that flew there… not remembering the last time, every darting pass something on it’s own not carrying the satchel of fading colors and smells that tear the moment apart