Tuesday, June 3

The Flower of Dew

Four years tells the story of a girl,
And then a boy,
Bitter birds,
Penitent precocity,
Who moved alone.

Once the loves with palms inter-curled
Distracted in joy,
Whispered words,
Whose ferocity
Melted stone.

This ineffective equity, enchantment upset.
To wing was she,
And he firm stood;
Enamored fools
No witch they knew.

Loosed was the spell, in the tale, and yet
None here is free
But shroud in hood,
And ever cruel
Hides the flower of dew.

Beguiled by tinsel and youth hid, not gone
They make love
To their dreams;
No virginal bloom
Avows promise.

But content wander they, who hope for dawn,
The winged above,
Boy and girl redeemed,
 In a stranger's room,
Visions to kiss.

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