Poetry #99

"Do you
miss her?"
the fox
asked the
little prince.

The little
prince was
sad. The
fox knows.

"You know
your rose
could have
left you.

"The wind
must've swept
her away.

"Or some
stranger's hand
might have
plucked her."

But the
prince was
busy contemplating.

He misses
her so.

"There are
other roses,
you know?

"There are
other things
besides your
lonely rose."

"She's waiting
for me,"
the little
prince said.

"Is that
why you
miss her?"

The prince
did not
speak anymore.

The fox
was right.