thoughtless
I should have picked the flower,
Cleanly severed it from its stem,
Cut it from its source of life,
And, loving, given it to him.
He was right- it would have withered,
Drooped, died, then been forgot.
But it was the gift that I did pick,
Yet I severed it from the thought.
So no one will enjoy the bloom-
It will wither on its own.
And I will try to select in future
Better gifts where thoughts are grown.
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