Blogging Poetry

O’ Daffodil

Waited for Truth; I waited alone.

O’ Daffodil… your mark? A tittle.

A smudge, a stain, a one-word riddle.

O’ Tulip, please refrain from speaking,

Lying and your oft-clumsy sneaking.

Dear Petunia, childish and demure,

Your deceitful game… Deserved? Incurred.

But, Bloodflower, I waited at Home.

Waited for Truth; I waited alone.

© CGT, 2017.

About Obol

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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