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Every time I see you, I’m captivated by you,
Imagine an Orchid growing through thorns,
Amidst the briers and pains of this life,
A flower as lovely as you was born,

Know, your smile’s my reason to smile,
I’d endure many seasons, walk many miles
To be near you, if only for a short while,
My heart could bear the trial,

But what it can not do, or live through:
Searching for what it can not find,
My puzzled heart’s in a bind, it seems,
It can’t judge reality from the dream—

The dream: plant you in my heart’s garden,
Reality: you’ll flourish right where you are,
For you are a lovely Orchid,
To be admired solely from afar.
When was it in the heart of man to love?
Who planted that first orchid in the fire,
Then nurtured it with lifeblood from above,
Only to watch it wither into brier?

When was it that my eyes beheld your form?
A seed was planted in this fruitful soul.
It blossomed into White Delphinium,
A shared desire, a longing to feel whole.

It was my goal to keep you close to me,
As we lapped water from a passion spring.
Rejoice I did—this caged bird you set free!
But then you left before my voice could sing:

When was it in our hearts to suffer grief?
The truest form of love is, truly, brief.
In sonnet form.
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