the widower’s lament

He’d not minded the flowers, understand;
Indeed, he held a grudging admiration for the end result,
And certainly the amalgamation of colors and scents
Were in no way unpleasing to him,
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we understands each other perfectly

The ceremonies were sealed with blades obtained sub rosa:
Some paring knife secreted out of the kitchen,
An old and somewhat dulled switchblade
Gifted to (and subsequently abandoned by) an older brother
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