Our love has seen how the orchids cling
A tear shall fall and make an ocean
And grow into a forest of rain
Then a fire shall burn a cinder twirl.
And a world shall disintegrate!
Into a cauldron of simmering, shame.
And our love our love shall die
Like the coals in a grate
Once more cloud of memory,
No amount of sunshine, can condensate
Our love has seen how the orchids cling.
High in the canopy; rooftop of trees…
Our love has roots that have done the same.
Like a miraculous subterranean thing.
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Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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