Puppy’s Breath (day 1455)

Memory had the young lad locked into heartache
Said a long face into still waters, messy brown hair.
Even puppy’s breath flowers, scattered about un-special pebbles
That were delicately delivered by glacial giants in a spring long ago,
Couldn’t lick the apparitions floating about.
Mounting piles of she-loves-me-she-loves-me-not
Couldn’t dare stop to observe silent friends soaring high above,
Or recognize it wasn’t what was left without.
But the great deal of compromise left standing tall
Two men in full militia calling: go within.

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