When all they did was bring you flowers,
you asked for your bouquet.
It made me wonder what it was that made you you.
After all you kept quiet and made it through the port
and kept still even while I rocked you back and forth.
And all I can ask is why it wasn't you
and how come it had been me
after all and all I had only sung to you.
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Found poetry. One poem or more day. A day or more of poems. Clever?
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