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Pansies
October 20, 2012
He loves me not,
He loves me.
Gleaming flower I had brought,
from an endless sea,
of a sunshine-caught,
yellow pansy.
Working up my courage,
I inch toward him,
choosing a passage,
that was new to the brim.
His face gleams with dotage,
‘I love you with all my heart’, I grin.
His smile erases,
My eyes flooded,
with salty tears.
‘I love you not’ he chortled.
Never again will I respect,
or imagine a blooming flower,
in the way one expects,
a pansy to unravel amour.
© Vania M., Voorhees, NJ
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