Roberosia Theorem

Do you remember?

I doubt you still do, but

A year ago

On a day like today,

In the 10 o’clock butter sunshine

I was under the Roberosia shade.

There were only fourteen flowers left

On the giant tree,

One had just opened its petals

Two gaily gleaming pink

A few others rosy and silken to touch

One discreetly losing its shine

Two already dead

Harrowingly withered

Brown and decomposed

Not even a shade of rose

Nor a tinge of hope

No promising buds left either

Until the Summer arrived again

Many months later

To Stay but not to fade

But tell me,

Back then,

How many were really in bloom?

Only you know the theorem.

You do the math.