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Annual Man

 

I cannot see you

across this vast expanse

that lies between us.

Separated by life and death,

but I know you are there.

Somewhere.

My sweet spring flower,

bloomed and gone,

stricken by an early frost.

I am here, but an annual man

waiting for the sun.

A perennial plight to find

a place in a world

where blooms are taken

before their day in the sun

has finished.

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