On 81 (Metamorphosis of a Flower)

Ten years later, count them, ten,
Morning glory rose again,
Casting shadows on my bed,
Shadows of the things we said.
They should be shadows of you and me,
But only one lonely shape I see.
Now that's all over and I'm alright.
I know I made it through the night.
The vines  that were pruned like forgiven sin
Made morning glory rose again.

Richard C. Hayner
June 18, 1982 ©

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