Flakes of Fire

Today's poem I remember well from two years ago - no tulips to be had here, though, so took my blip of a pot of flowers against my neighbour's wall - also reminded me to be open to her, though I don't feel much like being sociable even with my husband at the moment. Sat outside in the sun for a bit, which means being stared at by anyone who wanders up or down our little alleyway - but I braved the stares and smiled and greeted, and hoped they don't judge me too harshly for letting my husband hang out the washing while I lazed in my dressing gown:

"Deaths of Flowers", by E J Scovell

I would if I could choose
Age and die outwards as a tulip does;

            .... (not like an iris)...

I would choose the tulip's reckless way of going;
Whose petals answer light, altering by fractions
From closed to wide, from one through many perfections,
Till wrecked, flamboyant, strayed beyond recall,
Like flakes of fire they piecemeal fall.