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Flowers.

 

                            Flowers.

 

                            Not cascading hanging baskets

                            coating bees in pollen haze,

                            nor the council flower beds

                            or ribbon tidy brides’ bouquets,

                            but tied to roadside posts and railings

                            fettered in the grip of grief;

                            these bright laments that wither

                            into dull displays of disbelief.

 

 

◄ The Adaptation.

All Grown Up. ►

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