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Between The Covers
I have plucked
Every primrose and daisy
Sprouting in myriad colours
On every wild vegetation,
Grown around my neighbour’s fence.
I have also plucked
All the flowers on my path
In their youthful fragrance,
Of spilled out pollen,
And in their sealed-dreams,
Clinging intimately to the
Tender stems of unknown creepers.
I don’t know
For whom they bloomed,
For the hot Sun?
For the cool Moon?
Or for the soothing South Wind?
Just see!
The flowers have never complained,
Either loud or in whispers,
Or perhaps
I have not cared to heed
Their effeminate indignation
Against my reckless passion,
Believe me.
I have also not spared
All the early flowers
Of Spring and Summer
Grown in the distant meadows
Only to press them for you
Between the covers.
poem
by
Arkay Drk
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