The Forgotten Flower Sings

Oh lady, do you remember me? The flower you left in the book of poetry. I lay forgotten for so long, My petals dried, my colors gone. But then, a miracle occurred, I melted warm in the odes of Keats. His soul now resides within my own, And I breathe his poetic pain. Once I whispered to the Sun But now I sing, of beauty and of joy For I have become a song, a melody Born from the words of a long lost poet But I wonder, when will you return to the library, To seek out the book and read it once again? This time, I won’t let you read the poetry, For I will sing it to you, until the very end. For I am that flower, the one you forgot But now I am alive, with the spirit of Keats And I will not wilt away, not anymore For my voice will echo through the pages of time. With every verse, my petals will unfurl, Revealing the beauty of Keats’ art. And as I sing, I’ll remind you of the love, That once bloomed in your own heart. …