Jasmine

Too short a lease of time: the white cascade
of bunched, sweet flowers faded slowly; then
there was a downpour and the ruthless rain

stuck all those petals on the asphalt, white
no more but dirty with dismay. The night,
too, lost for it. Where I would stand and stare

in silence how the dark enhanced this sight
and wonder how the scent grew strong likewise
there’s nothing left now but untidy boughs

and a strong smell of earth gone soaking wet.
Those magic flowers, mouldy, rot away –
to one white hour there’s many months of grey.