FLOWERS FROM THE WREATH

For the wreath of Love 

Has been placed on death.

And yet, the flowers 

Haven't died nor faded

With age and time.

For the flowers of love

Have perished from thoughts

Of minds, close and arbid 

And yet the fragrance lives on

In innocent and mortal souls

For the joyful bloom

Of true love has still not fallen

On to the grounds of disillusionment

From the heart of the aggrieved

And never will,

And never should.