Sunday, March 25, 2012

Rose

The rose
Once lived
Glistened with drops of crystal
Glowed with life
Then the rose,
wilted, dying
Brown, curling petals,
Softened thorns
Now the rose
dry and aging
Crackles at the lightest touch
Means the world to me
Means a memory of innocence
And a night I swirled
Across the floor
Dancing

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