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She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

By John I. Blair


Pick a flower, almost any flower;
Place it gently on your palm;
Pluck the petals, one by one.

(Donít cheat by counting before you start;
Prescreened predictions donít work out.)

If itís a juicy, dew-kissed bloom,
Dripping with nectar, fragrant with perfume,
You may come away with sticky fingers.

(Direct involvement with loveís minions
Can get messy.)

At least youíll know.

©2004 John I. Blair  

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