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Lare Joseph Austin


El Segundo, CA, US

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Tomorrow's Rose


Lare Joseph Austin

He held the flower ever so gently, delicately.
A small rose richly vibrant, deep red in color.

He had picked the very last one from
Their garden
The last one that still had its
Silky soft petals mostly closed.

The tiny crystal misted water droplets had
Evaporated from the rose by the time he
Brought it to his wife.
Had he surprised her with it? Perhaps. But
Somehow, he thought, she knew,
As he had done so
So often before this.

Roses were her favorite.
Especially small red ones.
The thought of this made him glow.
It deepened his love for her
Each time, all that much more.

He placed the flower ever so gently, delicately
Onto his wife's gravestone
With a promise
To bring her another rose

Just Before Sunrise


Lare Joseph Austin

The two children sat quietly, together
Momentarily just before sunrise on the
Very same park bench where
Their grandparents always
Come to sit moments before every

Sunrise. The two held each other’s
Hand in their laps. They glowed and
Gazed, as always, with wondrous
Fascination straight up into
The protected embrace of the dark

Cool umbrella of the large
Magnolia tree, a magnificent icon of entwined
Muscled branches
Glazed broad leaves
Bright blossoms raining down

Delicious, moist sweetness in
Glorious incubating anticipation, no,
More than that, expectancy
Of this day to come and what this
Day would bring to them as

The two children sat quietly, together sharing
Their own, innocent moment
Just before sunrise on the
Very same park bench

The two of them, now as
Aging grandparents, always
Come to sit moments before every
Loving, remembering.

The Bookstore


Lare Joseph Austin

The wind was getting colder and
It was beginning to rain, hard. So,
I ducked into the nearest bookstore

One of those big bookstores that
Everyone’s heard of,
Been in
Big enough to have its own
Zip code

Nothing much in the way of interest
For me
Just books
Lot’s of em
Laying in the aisles
Reading, staring, deciding

But there was no one in the cooking section
At least temporarily it
Was abandoned, deserted
And it called to me to be
My temporary refuge
I refuged there

And so as not to look out of place and
I quickly plucked
A book
Something, anything
Off the shelf and began

A cookbook written by a former pro football coach, how
But the more I ‘glanced’
The more I began to
Read, and
Immersed in
Recipes, and pictures, and ideas
My mouth was watering
I love this recipe book by this football guy
Say, this guy’s good
Who would ever have known
Well, now I did
I gotta have this book
I have no money
No credit card
I just farted
I have to go

How long had all of these other people been
Standing around me
Right next to me
Almost touching me
Reading, staring

I think I’d like to come back here
It’s still raining outside