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Pansies

He loves me not,
He loves me.
Gleaming flower I had brought,
from an endless sea,
of a sunshine-caught,
yellow pansy.

Working up my courage,
I inch toward him,
choosing a passage,
that was new to the brim.
His face gleams with dotage,
‘I love you with all my heart’, I grin.

His smile erases,
My eyes flooded,
with salty tears.
‘I love you not’ he chortled.

Never again will I respect,
or imagine a blooming flower,
in the way one expects,
a pansy to unravel amour.



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