Old Flower
She is a flower given
in rainy hours
in her is ocean-ness
moving soft winds before her;
floating lightly
shiny new soul blooming
untouched by sentiments darkly
all experience her delight
having never known mean love
only love requited.
Joy seldom comes to the stapled heart
her's has never been.
I am older than she
aged older than my years
mangled innocence
unrequited
the winter bulb
underground
she is summer's sun
warming waters.
I ask her if
her heart,
and my dark bulb
can yet be fertile?
What irony
meeting brings
in words wandering
'cross pages
when individuals
invest
their souls
and their best
summer flailings.
So rare the soul not potted yet
not yet a bulb a'growing
yet wise enough
to love the flower
covered by
winter ground
frozen.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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