Early in the hour I grew a flower
 
Delicate, silken, and sweetly perfumed
 
The water it tasted was foreign and wasted
 
And so wilted despite what I assumed
 
 
 
An absent mind with petals aligned,
 
I have reaped the seeds I’ve sown
 
While now I stand on a house of sand,
 
In place of love, distrust has grown
 
 
 
With poisonous lust returned to dust
 
Barren of beauty I wander
 
I took for granted that previously planted
 
Though I often paused to ponder
 
 
 
My roots entangled the bloom I had strangled
 
Amidst the void of our garden
 
Existence, bereft, has all but left
 
To fetch for me some pardon
 
 
 
The winds of change shall rearrange
 
What I once knew of love
 
I did not share that tender care
 
That guides the wings of doves
 
 
 
Might I amend the affliction I send
 
And plant again my blossom’s start
 
With hope I nourish for love to flourish
 
For losing is a lonely art
 
 
 
Aye, I fashion the garden of passion
 
Dwelling in the heart
 
Losing, indeed, is a lonely art

(2012)

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Gary W
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