Floral antiquities of language 

Are strew like roses at darlings’ toes.

Beauteous in colour and in form,

Laying unmasked fervour in luxurious prose.

Delicate paper tissue in pastel yellow

With stroked black ink in neat shapes.

Wild cursive exclamations of admiration,

A sense of reality - unseen - escapes.

Love seldom felt and often declared 

Burns painful scars in the flesh of true.

An unknown pang mistaken plenty

Leaves heart so unsure of loving you. 

The End

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