With first
glances, love´s planted & tender seed,
Expecting
blushing bloom & not the binding weed,
Nurtured,
watered, tended & with kisses duly fed,
Caressed
& sweet-worded upon ardent petal bed,
So why with
sun, shade & dewdrops softly tended,
Do velvet
petals drop, leaving bloody root upended?
Tell me why,
after soft touching & sweet word fussed,
Does our love
crumble, turning to dry & humble dust?
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