Melbourne Candid Series #1231 Flagstaff Garden

 

In Flagstaff’s hush of passing days,
He moves mid-step, half flesh, half sign,
A skull drawn light upon his face,
Death borrowing a mortal line.

A crown of blooms, a lifted phone,
The living world still calls him near;
Between the laugh, the bone, the tone,
He walks where joy and ending peer.

So gardens keep what crowds forget:
That life, well held, is brief, complete
A dance inked once, not finished yet,
Then gone, like footprints in the street.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

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