Lined up, like fairies in white
the orchids dangle;
exotic and erotic on the bench beside her
half left asleep,
half naked from the core under the orchids
are shy to speak of their origin
she, turns a blind eye to the sources
for she knew orchids, mistakenly
for death
when white is caressed
a color devoid of all others to reflect a finality
an end, of all good things as they do
come crawling on her skin
a sensation of some love
like a mothers, safe
like a lover, passionate
he had brought her orchids
to thank her for accepting to walk with him
for life when he can barely stand up.
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