If Narcissus the god had gazed at the narcissus flower
Blooming somewhere in the folds of the earth
If he had become enchanted by the warm yellow center
Enticed by slender, waving, come-hither lovelies
Entered the tubal opening, finding mirrored passion,
He would have beheld beauty staring back at him
Rather than the shallow reflection of his face in a pond,
A reflection, that had a wind arisen, would have blurred,
Then erased it.
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