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The Collective: The Petal Plucked
In the modest autumn gust
Amidst the flock of gyratory leaves
An inflection of bright wanderlust
From a regal flower must've been bereaved
It plummets through the violent thrusts
With piquant grace you would not believe
A petal plucked from no one knew
What flower or thorn it do belong
Bu the danseuse in its supple hue,
And balmy redolence, and lazy songs
Invokes a comfort in the milieu
Stained with tumult of wings and prongs
A saturnalia waves with the petal
As it fall and rise in neutrality
Coming gay, chaste and vestal
With fluent motions of a gypsy
That afflicts enthralls of carousals
In simple wonders and niceties
A petal needs not be in plethora-
A flower not, to posses significant aroma
poem
by
Norman Santos
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