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Flowers By Wendy Cope

Some men never think of it.

You did. You'd come along

And say you'd nearly brought me flowers

But something had gone wrong.


The shop was closed. Or you had doubts -

The sort that minds like ours

Dream up incessantly. You thought

I might not want your flowers.


It made me smile and hug you then.

Now I can only smile.

But, look, the flowers you nearly brought

Have lasted all this while.

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