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Faded Rose
The rose, neglected
Begins to fade;
Its beauty slowly dims.
One by one
The petals drop
Leaving a stem
Naked and bare
Adorned only with thorns.
Sadly the petals
Are gathered and saved
And placed on a dusty shelf.
In a pretty little
Forgotten bowl
Sometimes a wayward breeze
Steals it way inside
To stir an aromatic memory
In which the rose still lives
Red, eternal and painfully sweet.
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