The Foolish Flower
A static place; her crimson face
She would turn to ash
If he was a ball of flames
She has fallen, signed and sealed
Eyes devoted enough to one
Like humans learned of no other Sun
The mad part of desiring
Is when there’s a risk of dying
She’d be Clytie and he’d be
Her dearest Apollo
And she’d have her feet
Eaten by the ground
Her demise will always be
The color of the light
Even if the cause was
Her love never known
Copyright © Nicola An | Year Posted 2016
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