Ode To Regret

By
A gift from God, your mother had once said.
Does this mean we're returning the favor?
Elaborate is not the word, no, it's dreary;
oak wood with meaningless engravings
and roses spawned from seeds of anguish,
watered with the tears.
They had always been your favorite
and it's heartbreaking to know they saved the best for last.
Together we prepared,
together we accepted but no sooner had denied,
and together with hearts, not words, combined,
we labeled you "return".





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