Oh lady, do you remember me?The flower you left in the book of poetry.I lay forgotten for so long,My petals dried, my colors gone. But then, a miracle occurred,I melted warm in the odes of Keats.His soul now resides within my own,And I breathe his poetic pain. Once I whispered to the SunBut now I sing, of beauty and of joyFor I have become a song, a melodyBorn from the words of a long lost poet But I wonder, when will you return to the library,To seek out the book and read it once again?This time, I won’t let you read the poetry,For I will sing it to you, until the very end. For I am that flower, the one you forgotBut now I am alive, with the spirit of KeatsAnd I will not wilt away, not anymoreFor my voice will echo through the pages of time. With every verse, my petals will unfurl,Revealing the beauty of Keats’ art.And as I sing, I’ll remind you of the love,That once bloomed in your own heart. …