James Hartsell

(Arlington, Washington, USA)

Crushed Blossoms

I think of sins committed long ago,
when first the limbs began to bud. I think of blossoms crushed capriciously,
unseen by lover's eyes. I think of paying for the fragrance lost
by flowers not yet bouqueted. I mourn for all the years we bore the guilt
of him who crushed them.

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