Laid To Rest

My daughter took her very first
as my lover took her last.
The sorrow of the blooms of spring
is they come and go so fast.

I took the only thing she wore
and I put it in its case.
A flower blooms and dies once more
in this tomb it has its place.

For soon enough a girl will bloom
and she'll open it with care.
To find my flower laid to rest
with her treasured gift still there.

by GREENWOLFE 1962

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