Serenade

Our song.
Where our hearts belong,
Is complete.
I know I was wrong.

Seeds of songs for serenade
Should have never been sprout.
But it is grown out
One thing left to do: pull it out.

Another Seed I plant.
Beneath the cracks
And suture
Of my heart failure.

Living seed of Truth,
In me, grow.
Take root
And bear fruit.
+MK

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