Blossom, you do sit so quietly
I've been a riot ever since you bowed out politely.
Your lightness is quite like this dizzy feeling
As my head floats up and hits the ceiling
And Stucco falls down like snow.
If any made a sound, I well would have known,
But you were neatly tucked in a sheet of time.
You are fermented grapes that I've left to wait
In hopes of returning the sweetest of wines.
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