I think of sins committed long ago, <br />when first the limbs began to bud. I think of blossoms crushed capriciously, <br />unseen by lover's eyes. I think of paying for the fragrance lost <br />by flowers not yet bouqueted. I mourn for all the years we bore the guilt <br />of him who crushed them.<br /><br />James Hartsell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crushed-blossoms/
