I think of sins committed long ago,
when first the limbs began to bud. I think of blossoms crushed capriciously,
unseen by lover's eyes. I think of paying for the fragrance lost
by flowers not yet bouqueted. I mourn for all the years we bore the guilt
of him who crushed them.
James Hartsell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crushed-blossoms/
