like celestial beings, she recited each by name

andromeda, cosmos, asters, stargazers; 

as velvety as the night sky

stems danced between fingertips at golden hour,

artfully tucked into place

plucked one by one, a childish chant

he loves me, he loves me not

left with a lonely trace of pollen

growing towards the light,

its petals closed upon dusk

ready for slumber

a balmy sweetness

once boasting silvery buds

fades to dusty hues

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