As a flower I have only seen in pictures
Paintings, sketches
In words and poems
There is a certain pull
In the gentle petals, and its colour
Like a woman I love
That lives atop an icy land
She like the bloom is distant
And I shall never be able to see
Yet, I remain connected
For the universe seems to hate me
I would want nothing but freedom
From thoughts of blooms or her
Neither would ever care should I fade
And I wish my thoughts of them wither
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