by Diana Jiganie, Romania
Our friendship is but an orange flower
fragile child of our hearts
bound together
in time and space, endless chase
beyond madness, just a trace
of orange scent
oh, let me descent
in the late hours of the night
and there, out of sight
standing still
in the white morning chill
sweeter than a kiss
tears turning to bliss
i will hold you, protect you
heal you and fill you
orange flower of gratitude
seven years of solitude
an eternity of multiple choices
lost and found
forever bound
so close, yet so far
will it survive, the orange flower
from the first to the very last hour?
Orange Flowers
by PrettyKitty570, Newark, NJ
I used to keep orange flowers in my pockets,
And walk slowly around the soft green grass,
And smell the scent of the sweet nectar that rose into the air,
Hoping that the sweetness of my flowers would soon become my own.
Oh how I wish I still kept orange flowers in my pockets,
Hoping that their sweetness would soon become our own,
Hoping that they could somehow wipe away your tears and your pain,
Hoping that they could be a better friend than I ever was.
I once used to keep orange flowers in my pockets,
but orange flowers soon wilt to brown bitterness.
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