Home » Poetry » Fleur





There are very few things

I chose for myself,

but this I do:

you help me bring out my happy.

My favorite memory is of you.

And though I do not wallow

in the thought of you,

unable to untangle my

dancing feet,

flying fingers,

I am drunk

with the gratitude that owns you.

Somewhere high up,


a bond exists between us.

Somehow we belong

to one another;

we are secret fools,

already agreed!

And this I chose –

I chose what compliments

the colors in this glowing heart.

And though I chose, in the guise of whomever the flower,

the person I am whilst with you, may I confess

in frank gladness that I’m happy that flower is you.



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