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Bloom

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Fresh bloom is off this soul
 
whose colors have begun to fade

with petals crisp as parchment
 
no longer the fairest maiden.
 
 
 
Weathered old woman pens
 
poems of decaying flowers
 
weaves words mending a heart
 
beckoning Spring’s showers.

©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
 
 
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24 thoughts on “Bloom

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