Observer

I could sit there,
on the chair,
beneath the art,
and lift the fallen flower.
(Let’s pretend it’s real
and suffering).

I could intervene
and let it rest awhile
between thumb
and forefinger.

I could lend
a hand. Offer
small comfort.

I’m sure that’s
what we should
always do.  But I sit
here.  Opposite.
Observing.