E ach day in cotton gloves, the artist works
P erfecting gorgeous flowers made of silk
H armoniously hued and ever perked
E ternal, unlike fresh ones of their ilk
M eandering back home ‘midst evening gloom
E ncounters in a sad neglected park
R etiring, non-attention seeking bloom
A nd feels a stirring of compassion spark
L ets dropp her wooly mitt and stoops to touch
B eneath the leaves, dropped petals slowly fade
L amenting tarnished loveliness nonesuch
O bliquely for a moment two lives braid
O ff hand there is no purpose for a glove
M ortality is tantamount to love.
Ephemeral Bloom (Acrostic Sonnet)
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