June 6, 2008
I see them
waving in the summer breeze,
a sea of pink and yellow.
Swaying with a single gust,
the tiny windblown cups.

Their sculptors carved them so delicately
in a wax of purple and blue.
The tailor cut them carefully
out of leather smooth and rough.

"Forget-Me-not!" they say.
"I will not!" I reply.
As I leave
I watch them wave farewell.

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