And so he walked; echoing feet
filling the room; so bittersweet
my lips form “Stay” but silence comes
I must accept brutal defeat

I stare now at chrysanthemums
and the artistry it becomes
when one grasps it with fingers frail
and think oh what it overcomes

Could be us if it not the assail
realising this love is stale
sameness in mind is the danger
but you, my dear, are not for sale

Wistfully he walked; Game-Changer
and mums must see warmth's exchanger
with change, 'tis us we endanger
but all outcasts meet a stranger

The End

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