grew together wild and free.
Down the valley a breeze blew
while bees and butterflies flew.
Whispering came winds of spring,
scent of the North they did bring.
With time they were in full bloom,
but the mood was one of gloom.
Plucked into a different basket -
one went on the Bishop's casket
while other got a heavenly nod
and was kept on the altar of God.
Prasenjit©2022
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