After the Footlocker Bouquet
After the Footlocker Bouquet
Naïve I went my separate way.
Facing a falsehood…promised love.
Yes, I remember well that day.
Forever fit us like a glove.
My hand was promised to someone.
I knew not he loved another.
We too, in fields of dreams had run.
True love, I did not discover.
You stood strong as you watched me leave.
Loss was forever locked that day.
Upon wild flowers, dreams still cleave.
Fantasies in pressed blossoms stay.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
April 27, 2010
Poetic Form Quatrain
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