Is This the End…?

“Don’t go, please.”
It grabs my ankle
with its beautiful vine.
“Well, shall I not?”
It knows the smell of my fatigued feet?
It hears the rumor about the wind I have in tow?
One day out of nowhere
It had burst into bloom on the roadside.
“I’ve been waiting for you…”, I hear.
Now I should stop being a vagabond,
holding its heart in my bosom,
and listen to its beating
Before this road ends,
shall I try a little bit further?
“Don’t go, please.”

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