Primrose Lane

The lawn once

peppered with bluebells

has been drained

of all verdancy

the home

which lay beyond

has turned to mould

riddled panels

with no straight

edges

and the former

self

responsible for its

conception

is buried under

the brittle

dead willow

you would

have remembered

for its soothing

shade

in summer months

had you conceived

with me.

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