A Dire Plea for Pardon




PARDON
by Jezreel Madsa

Pardon 
if I have flirted with
the summer,
basked in its nourishing heat;
left you sick and dying—
cold in the winter—
my love 
so unsatisfying.

Pardon me, please
if I went out home
dancing with
the breeze. . .
while you're alone
calming the tremor
your feeble knees, 
you groan
wishing, longing, yearning
a lil' while 
of the rarest
visit of my spring.

Oh, Pardon me, I beg
for the days 
I failed to keep
you nourished and bud . . .

for failing to cheer 
when you're deeply most sad.
I should've 
tucked you
by the sweetest 
blanket of my love.

I am sorry, babe! :'(






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