Spring Lies: ‘one way or another, winter pays for summer’ – glen

the Forget-Me-Nots forgot what happened
to the Morning Glory as the sun peaked,
but they, too, met their bitter end
wilted from what had once been full in bloom,
the couplet of some sacred sonnet torn
to tell its tattered tale elsewhere,
when the truth is not welcome in this bed,
and the lie of spring is that we come to think
it cannot end but frolic in its bliss instead,
but were there a way to know just when
to let the lies lie down, to face the truth
the sunshine casts as every flower drowns,
I think it best that I forget the way the couplet rhymes
though should the sunshine find me, I’m sure that she reminds.

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