The Flower-Of-An-Hour Was Always Cruel Poem by Evon Christian

The Flower-Of-An-Hour Was Always Cruel



The flower-of-an-hour was always cruel
And never shown in your everyday smile,
When walking about in the snowfall
You said, “we are for each other, ”
I’ll reprove when the sun’s bedridden
And the moon’s dancing in the heavens,
Young lovers will all laud you, but the smile
Of your portrait grows dim and diluted,
As the waning of the moon, less and less
As a crescent-but barely.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Delilah Miller 29 May 2007

If nothing else, it's pretty. But it IS something else (I think, but I'm probably wrong) . It's looking at a familiar face that doesnt capture what's familiar about that person?

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