hydrangeas, Hydrangeas
I cut blue hydrangeas
and one white for your innocence,
left them by your door, and fled.
You did not know they were from me,
which didn’t matter as I imagined
you gathering them in your arms.
I envied the vase in which you placed them,
the table they graced, the window through
which the sun touched and warmed them;
for they were close to you.


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