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 In a garden of hanging flowers
 I walk upon fallen petals;
 Barefoot in their domain,
 A shade in their shadows.

 Once i breathed their fragrance,
 Tasted their offered nectar.
 Each has held me captive
 If only for a time.

 In my winter i saw them
 Shriveled before my chill.
 With me but a season
 Till i drove them away.

 In my spring they lay still.
 No leaf would they turn
 Nor flower reveal;
 Lifeless in my gaze.

 Yet hope is the new plant:
 Hung on corner rafter,
 In bloom after a frost,
 Green amidst the darkness.

 And despair is its promise.
 It too has its seasons,
 And i know too well
 That winter comes quickly.

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Last edited March 13, 2003 12:05 (diff)