21 May 2012
You were the small branch
of a patient tree,
the longed flower
which blossomed early that year,
with an eternal sigh of agony,
for it was to last.
A flower taken away, higher
than the tree could reach,
nothing to be done,
no comfort to be gained.
Flown away,
in his hands,
with eyes shut,
and with only one breath:
your last
and your first.
Flower • Opuss № I