17. Hidden Sin
In the mountains, a flower blooms, a sight so serene,
A spectacle that captures eyes unseen.
Its petals unfurl in delicate grace,
Awaiting the touch of a hand to embrace.
But caution whispers of a peculiar rule,
Once plucked, it belongs to only one, no duel.
hy does possession define its worth,
While shared, it loses its allure and birth?
When the flower is held by another, it becomes like lowly weeds,
Dry leaves discarded, fulfilling no needs.
Tossed by the winds, no ownership claimed,
Destined to wither, unnamed and untamed.
When I was plucked, I dared not reveal,
The horror, the mistake, the pain so real.
In secret, I buried my roots again,
Crying silent tears, enduring the strain.
I hoped my actions would remain concealed,
A clandestine act, my heart truly revealed.
"What would they say?" my anxious thoughts ponder,
While the moon above watched in solemn wonder.
The day arrived for my destined betrothal,
To be plucked, as tradition foretold.
But fate smiled upon me, a twist of chance,
For the one who held me in a tender trance.
He cradled me gently, sensing my unease,
Whispering, "This is your first time, please."
I nodded, hiding secrets deep within,
Knowing we shared a similar hidden sin.
YOU ARE READING
Untold Tales
PoetryPoetry. As we venture into the depths of the woods, our voyage leads us into the sylvan realm where languishing nymphs reside, burdened by sorrow and constrained to silence for it holds secrets that will cause havoc once unraveled. In the gardens wh...
