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Click hereFor the brave of heart, see what's beyond the Bloomed Bust:
--<--<--{(@
My Everything of Seventy-Seven
underneath the willows
we found freedom in the nude
where once we met, shy and prude
my head on your pillows
for all those years my groin's leaven
Eternity of Eighty-Eight
marks of love where I chew
producing my well-earned wage
highlighted freckles of age
on the trellis I bound you
our new found couple time of late
Elysium of Ninety-Nine
moans louder than horns
life restored as two wither
by stings enjoyed together
entwined and pierced by thorns
wrinkles covered by climbing vine
My One of Hundred-Eleven
the petals have fallen
there where I lay you down low
my wife, your wild sisters grow
awaiting the call in
to tend your rose bed in heaven
o}--/--\--
Farewell, my Rose,
I took root the moment
I laid eyes on you
blinding out the Irises.
My first careless touch
punished by your spikes
better than any Holly could.
From buds to rose hips
I took care of you
pushing away the Daisies.
When the thirst wore you out
I fed you the juice of life
denying it to the Nymphaeas.
When you got tired
I gave you a bed to sleep
not resting with the Poppies.
I always knew your fate
and yet, how could I not
reject every Dahlia.
Now that you've gone
my garden is empty
my arthritic hands sterile.
Thanks for your comments which made this amateurish scribbler bloom like water does for thirsty garden dwellers, but even more for the flowery scents you sent from your poetic gardens - I do enjoy your poem so much.
Oh 29, this is for the brave of heart.
"When you got tired, I gave you a bed to sleep, not resting with the Poppies". I can't help but wonder what this means.
More.
Absolute beauty. I loved each and every word. So elegant and written with a romantic heart. "Arthric hand" my eyes welled.
Well done!!! 5 stars!!!
Hats off to you, sir. Such exquisite renditions of devotion. Five stars and I bow to you.