I clipped the rose petals off,
while exclaiming about their smell,
smashing their orange-tinged perfume into the cement,
with my unkempt dancing feet,
remarking on the unparalleled beauty of
form, function,
poise, and purpose
continuing to gush idly in
bouquets of gratitude and gratuity,
isn't he beautiful,
while in horror,
you raised an eyebrow,
crossed your legs,
and sighed,
and thanked
the blue sky above,
I forgot to sharpen the blades.
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