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Before The Flower Withered

There was a time,
That every time was our time.
When our thoughts were golden
And the worship of a lover’s shrine.
Then I would dote on your every nuance,
I will look into your eyes and tell the diameter of your iris. I will adore every detail of your body.

There was an hour,
That every minute seemed so far.
That I wanted to hear your voice,
And sleep in your thoughts.
To be there forever – if you did permit me so.

The flower had all light, water and manure.
But it had no fruit.
I watered at the dark hour and dawn.
I weeded all green grasses growing on our territory.
But love was not all that the flower needed to blossom.

Then one Monday morning she gave off a yellow leaf.
Then the next a yellow stem.
My lavender was struck by a blight of unknown germ.
She withered day after day as I watched in grief.

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