The final petal said you love me not, 
And mournfully I knew this must be true, 
And so I hid it in a book by Yeats, 
Then placed it on a shelf high out of view;
                
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Hello Jesse! I think that Yeats would jave marveled at your poem. It is beautiful, so cleverly written and touching. Perfectly cobayructed, as always. I love tge crimson drop of oetal.
Thank you for your kind words, Laurie. It is always a motivation when fellow writers give positive feedback. And thank you for sharing your lovely poem. I think we had the same idea when writing these.

 
                     
                
Your poem reminded me of this one I wrote years ago. It's nor a patch on yours, but it carries a similar feeling. I wonder I wonder if one day I’ll be able to read you these lines that I write I wonder if one day In the mountains I will tell you these lines out loud Yes I wonder if one evening Right next to the fire, right next to you I will whisper these words in your ear Or, will I one day retrieve this little book All yellowed with age And smile sadly For one reason Or another? (translated from French, Stellenbosch, September 1990)