A Dream Delayed
Yes? You may call it cliché,
This song or cry of love,
Its desperate and dark petals
Falling as the year bleeds out
To frost. The leaves dried or dying,
Thus to be described in crisp
Expected terms as “gold display”
Or “copper-bronze” and you
Would have me wait, you say,
Until another Spring, although
My question’s sown for answering.
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