The Flower
What does a flower
Know of me;
The transitory darkness,
Of a crossing shadow.
And when the darkness
Comes too close
Death opens warmth
to cold
And light no longer lingers.
What do I know
Of a flower;
Always a distance
Between two hearts
That are growing.
What is this life
When touching every sense
But innocence;
Interrupting a flower
That grows
For the beauty of all.
What do we know
Of a flower.
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