Flowers

He would look for her within
city sidewalk crowds each day
as though perhaps he was
the only reason her eyes

were green, her hair auburn,
the year 1998, the season
still in question. Each day
was a small surrender to fate.

He saw her last on a Wednesday
and finally stopped buying
flowers each day on the way
to work because they never

became hers just as he never
became hers. Though in two
hundred years time, they
would marry and keep a farm

far from the city that once
kept them apart, as if they
both remembered his many
flowers.

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