Not A Minute Or A Day Too Late Or Soon

Love is obedient Love is subservient think, do! How our white water lily hitherto looks, days have gone by when; floating on, its, emerald lily pads she arrives like a cup and saucer. 'O why then does she shies and sink? Equally back into that watery darkness, anyone might think this is her oblivion.' So why is it she slinks from her silvery dais? Slips back from the watery foreground like moonlit lilacs with a hemlock's fragrance. Apollo himself must stoutly believe- that she is his fairest daughter in the entire world- shall never be returned or even bereaved. But yet look resurfaced. Not a minute or a day too late or soon- she's back to her obedient selfless bloom. Subservient happiness, mixed with partial gloom.