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Thursday, June 22, 2023

Bleeding Hearts (Julia Guerin), Sonnet #605





















We shouldn’t ever pluck them —

They endure so few days.

Their rows bow each stem

Just how much love weighs.

My wife’s come from a garden

Her mother tended for years.

She would beg your pardon

To say: “Not like blood, but tears.”

I watched my daughter draw

This picture for Mother’s Day,

Obeying her own inner law

To paint what only she can say:

Three mothers’ hearts in one

Sweet flowering of passion.