Cherished Blossom

A cherished blossom
cradled between the pages of Keats,
dried in the scent of love.
It tells its own story,
it weeps in summertime,
it wonders through the night,
looking for its lullaby.
In the spring it's never green,
long faded chlorophyll,
bent petal, broken stem,
hollowed and dried-out veins,
still bleeds - on the verses of Keats.